


Locus amoenus

by writinghwang



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Background Relationships, College, Developing Relationship, Falling In Love, Family Issues, Hate to Love, How Do I Tag, Hwang Hyunjin is Whipped, I Don't Even Know, I hate Latin, I'm sorry Ancient Romans, Kim Seungmin & Yang Jeongin | I.N are Best Friends, Latin, M/M, Messy, Photographer Hwang Hyunjin, Relationship(s), Sad Yang Jeongin | I.N, Slice of Life, Slow Burn, There's A Tag For That, This Is STUPID, What Have I Done, Why Did I Write This?, Yang Jeongin | I.N is Whipped
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-02
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:20:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 29
Words: 91,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23853709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writinghwang/pseuds/writinghwang
Summary: "What are you doing?" asked Jeongin in a smirk, as he was moving his hands to dry them as soon as possible. There was no mock in his question, he could perceive that the other was genuinely interested, curious to find out what he had missed out. Jeongin was simple. He wasn't built by default, on a heart too light to carry the weight of someone else; he acted like he had a house of only foundation, awaiting the moment to start the real construction. Was, then, Hyunjin the ivy that settled in an almost abandoned zone - the shipyard?or Jeongin studies latin at college, aspiring photographer Hwang Hyunjin breaks into his life and Jeongin loses a bracelet along the way.
Relationships: Han Jisung | Han/Lee Minho | Lee Know, Hwang Hyunjin/Yang Jeongin | I.N, Kim Seungmin/Lee Felix
Comments: 39
Kudos: 83





	1. Fate looms on our head

**Author's Note:**

> Locus amoenus - a literary topos involving an idealised place of safety and comfort.

During the night Mrs. Yang gave birth to his first and only child, it was raining. The labour had been long and exhausting, moreover the baby came out of her belly in the middle of the night. At 3 a.m., after three (maybe, four?) hours. All the new mum wanted to do in the morning, obviously, was take a nap and rest; but it wasn’t something she could gain.

The woman had never needed someone by her side, which is why she wasn’t married nor engaged. The story of how she found herself pregnant was a kind of anecdote nobody had the honour to hear. Right in that moment, she was joyful; turning around and seeing her son, her baby, the person she would have probably loved better for the rest of her existence was something she couldn’t fully explain.

Mrs. Yang was still feverish of happiness, when her beloved sister came in her hospital room. Her sister was her opposite, but she was the only one who would’ve always reached her. Greeting, at 6 a.m. after her sister gave birth to her nephew, had been embarrassing. They looked at each other and giggled. Then, the attention was all on the baby. The woman got closer to the cradle where the baby was sleeping, smiling brightly at the sight of such a calm and warm imagine. A little sadness, however, broke her smile. Maybe for actual sadness, maybe for shame.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t be here earlier.” she said, even though they both knew they couldn’t blame each other for their different lives. One had a child, the other was busy working, “He’s gorgeous, you know? All babies are, though. I think he has something more.”

Mrs. Yang laughed slightly, a detail she wouldn’t have remembered the next day. In those absurd moments, even the tiniest things were suddenly the greatest action a human could make. A new life was there, right in front of them. “It’s because you love him already.”

The sister sat on a chair in front of the new mum’s bed, hiding her face with the hands: a clumsy attempt to hide her joy. “Have you chosen a name?”

The mum looked at her baby, thinking that no, she hadn’t chosen. That little nose, the eyes peacefully closed, the hands that were holding a still empty bracelet; and the soul she didn’t know yet, the habits he would have had, the life he would have lived. Mrs. Yang couldn’t let her son become an other sad, rude figure of the world he was, now, living in. “Yes, his name’s Jeongin. I’ve heard it is related to a respectful and shiny person."

“It’s nice but.. Have I ever told you people say that if you give birth on a rainy day, the baby will be stubborn?”

At first, Jeongin’s mum didn’t believe her sister’s words. As time went by, anyway, she was right. Jeongin was really stubborn. And he should’ve listened to his mother. Jeongin, sadly, didn’t want to listen any advice concerning University when he graduated from high school. That’s how he found himself studying Latin that day.

For a few months, he thought that was interesting studying a language as Latin and seeing how it is the origin of many other languages. Jeongin believed it had such a strong and long history. But then, he started translating. And translating meant learning multiples declensions. And declined adjectives. And he was so confused. And he couldn’t do it. His headstrong attitude could’ve helped him going through many hours spent studying stuff he wouldn’t have remembered the following day. Now it was too much, though. He couldn’t stand any of the authors he had to study or translate, even though, at the same time, he still felt a strange, strong attraction toward the ancient language.

However, University turned out to be less bad than expected. For the first week he had been completely lost, the institute was huge and so had to be his sense of direction. Yes, he got lost many times, but now that he learnt how to wander around the establishment, it was just fine. One of his biggest fears was getting to know his roommate; he met him the first day. Jeongin, with a surprising photographic memory only for the things he wants to remember, remembered every aspect of his first day of his new life – that’s just how he liked to call this period of his existence.

Jeongin barely recalled the image of the school from the open house he had before his finals. At the time it was easier: he was with a bunch of other students that were guided around, explaining every thing they saw during their walk. That’s how Jeongin thought it was easy going around the dorm; no, it was harder than he thought. Or maybe was just the fact that he was alone.

He had this revelation pretty early, when he was still wandering around the many identical hallways: from now on, he had to solve his problems on his own. Not because he was lonely, because he was _alone._

In his right hand, the purple suitcase; in his left hand, a box full of stuff he was emotionally attached to – from the photo he and his mum took that time they went to Disneyland when he was eight years old, the blanket he used to sleep with in every dark night, his seven favourite books because _I can’t choose, they’re all worth it!_ , to his new Latin-English dictionary that, he could swear, made the box too heavy. His gaze was dancing all over the hallway (the right one), to run off from his own thoughts, from the fear which got his hands shaking, his heart to bump on his chest at every wrong door. The excitement was just a way to hide the scare that travelled through his backbone, reminding him he was alive and couldn’t do a step back.

Room 421: finally, he was in front of it. All he had to do was taking the key in the trouser pocket and getting in. Jeongin leaned his suitcase on the door frame, and looked for the key. The boy touched frantically every part of his blue jeans, not finding that damn key. He tried to recall the last twenty minutes; his mother greeting him like he was going at the battlefront, himself walking through probably all of the hallways of the dorm, himself in front of the door. Where was his key?

Instantly, he looked at his left; the hand still holding the heavy carton box. It couldn’t be, but he felt it: the treasure was among all that stuff. Jeongin sighed heavily, even more than his box, if we could count heaviness like this. Then, the only thing he could do was placing the box on the blue moquette, seeking it desperately. If University years were supposed to be all like the first day, the only reasonable action Jeongin could do was begging God to have mercy on him.

“Are you looking for something?” suddenly he heard a voice, after the door of his room had been opened. Jeongin looked up at the speaker, finding in front of him a boy wearing casually a tracksuit, which had lived already a decade, at least. To answer, Jeongin mumbled something the other didn’t understand. The latter kneeled down, so that Jeongin could communicate with him properly. Seeing the new student not telling anything, he started looking at the carton box as well. “Are you looking for this?”

Bingo. Jeongin created an eye contact with the stranger, that was showing proudly the key.

“No way! Where did you find it? I’ve been looking for it for ages!”

The boy smirked, “It was under your dictionary. Latin, huh? Good luck.” he handed Jeongin the key, who was quite shocked by the whole situation. “I’m Minho, by the way. And I guess we’re roommates, so you’re..”

“Jeongin, nice to meet you.” and he could’ve had a revelation five minutes before, but he had another one right after: he wasn’t alone either. He had Seungmin and, now, Minho, too.

“Jeongin? Jeongin!?” Seungmin screamed, snapping his fingers dangerously close to his friend. They had been sitting on the grass for hours and Jeongin seemed more and more absent-minded, “Are you even listening to me?”

Jeongin’s eyes could be stuck on the Latin book, but his mind was definitely somewhere else, “Hmm?”

“You’ve stopped on this line for half an hour, did you get it now?” Jeongin confused face, to Seungmin, was another disarming proof that Jeongin gave up listening to him too much time ago. Seungmin was exhausted, tutoring a third-grader would have been much easier than tutoring Jeongin. Not only he was terrible at Latin, he didn’t even care. “Listen, it’s easy, okay? Let’s start with _Stat supra caput Fatum._ It’s very basic, what’s the subject?”

Jeongin puffed, “I don’t know, Fatum?”

Seungmin’s expression immediately lighted up, “Exactly! You can do it, see? What’s the verb?”

“Stat, I think.” his best friend nodded happily, “What does it mean?”

“Loom: fate looms on our head.”

Jeongin rolled his eyes, “Thanks sir Seneca for this lesson.” however, he wrote down the sentence Seungmin translated for him unknowingly.

That afternoon, Jeongin flicked through the pages of the dictionary perhaps too many times, looking for words that were sometimes tricky and difficult to understand. Jeongin didn’t even try to count the time Seungmin repeated that the translation was easy, that Seneca was easy. The younger thought that the only easy thing about that author was his philosophy. Pity that it ended up making his life harsher.

“Innie, fortasse is an adverb. Even an high-school student could translate this without any problem.”

“Then let them translate this thing!”

_Click._

Seungmin had told him that Latin was though, Seungmin had been giving Jeongin the greatest pieces of advice that he didn’t follow since they met each other, during the first year of middle school of Jeongin. Stubbornness had never helped Jeongin, because it brought him an angry confidence that, in one way or another, brought him troubles and troubles only. Obstinacy was, of course, what didn’t let him give up, but it was, as well, what let him make the biggest mistakes.

“No Innie, it’s super easy. Really, you would’ve translated it right away in September!”

Jeongin puffed again, coming back to his books. _Click._

Meanwhile, Seungmin leaned on the grass, holding himself with the hands; his arms behind is back. Although it was almost evening, the Sun was still shining and warming Seungmin up. That little park was a peaceful place among the rush and busy establishment of University, which is why he constricted Jeongin to come here to study. Whenever he needed a place to stay at ease, the little park was perfect. They were sitting sitting next to a weeping willow – Jeongin was actually under it (he didn’t want the Sun to disturb him), while Seungmin was distant enough to catch some light.

Not far from them, you could see a statue of, Seungmin imagined, the benefactor of the park, Seungmin would’ve thanked him cheerfully. Or maybe, he thought again, that elderly woman was a person who used to be important when she attended their University; Seungmin had never get interested enough to search some information about her. What he knew was that it was pretty sad seeing that the only creatures who cared about it were the pigeons. And the pigeons cared about her and her statue when they had to take a dump. Miserable. _Click._

However, Seungmin had to mend; the only creatures who cared about that woman and her story were the pigeons and a tall boy with a camera around his neck, who had been taking photos for all the afternoon.

_Click._

“How are you doing with Seneca?” Seungmin asked, still focused on the statue and all the stuff he was thinking.

“I’m almost done actually” after that, Jeongin screamed in desperation; which was both surprising and terrifying, because he seemed calm, once he started translating on his own.

_Click._

“I swear to God, if I hear another damn click I will throw my book on them!” complained the poor student, not looking up from his book, “Gosh, who’s keeping doing all that noise?”

“Huh? A boy over there. But to be honest, Innie, you did even more noise two minutes ago-“

“Can you tell him to stop?”

“He’s disturbing you, so you go.”

“Never in a million years.”

“Then stop complaining.”

Jeongin looked up for the first time from the books, just in order to see who was annoying him. He was in front of him and, Jeongin could feel it, he didn’t stand him already.

“Did you finish?” Seungmin demanded, even though he didn’t receive any answer; Jeongin was too busy getting mad with a stranger whose biggest perk was taking photos while Jeongin was studying Latin. Seungmin, however, gave a reading to the last sentence of the translation Jeongin was working on, “I think it’s right, you know? _Fate looms on our head; the hour you suggest for others’ death, maybe is close to yours._ ”

Pity that Jeongin wasn’t paying attention again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hii, this is my first time posting on ao3 so i don't know what i'm supposed to say here. hope you'll enjoy this story as much as i do writing it, it'd be nice if you could leave kudos/comments <33  
> sorry for any typo, english is not my first language but i tried my best !!


	2. It's been calling me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seungmin encountered a big, huge, enormous problem. Oh, and Jeongin discovered Seneca is pretty easy.

For most of his life, Seungmin had been patient. The boy was still able to see his empty dish in front of him, as he was waiting for his parents to come back from work. Seungmin spent much time like this during his childhood: staring at the porcelain white dish, listening to the hands of the clock running around it in the same way someone else would’ve listened to his favourite song. Seungmin waited, he was so used to that he didn’t even mind it at some point.

The brown haired boy let the time fly by, entertaining himself as good as he could. Unfortunately, the hands of the clock felt like taking a nap that morning, in an overcrowded classroom. Seungmin would have died from warmth or boredom. Or both, he was sure. He lied pretty well to Jeongin, every time he told him that Latin was simple, satisfying and, why not, fun. What an incredible liar.

Being careful not to be seen by anyone, he closed his book and put his stuff in his black backpack. Just like the bravest of the thief, Seungmin sneaked out of the classroom. As he got past the door, he took a deep breath: freedom. The rebel looked around, in order to be sure nobody would have known of his escape. However, the doubt didn’t take long to arrive; what was he supposed to do now? Going back to the dorm? Out of question, he couldn’t risk to find Jisung in an inappropriate situation. Wandering around? Maybe not, he didn’t even have his earphones with him. Suddenly, his stomach growled and Seungmin knew how to spend his free time.

At the corner of an alley, there was a place Seungmin went to every time he could. It was his little secret; nobody – not even Jeongin – knew about that small bracket of his life. Seungmin loved to take refuge there because it was the only place he could get some fresh air while eating. At the time, even the employees knew his name and his usual order by heart: Seungmin was a bit of a creature of habit. Taking his sandwich (cheese, ham, tomatoes and lettuce) didn’t take long and, as he had it in his hands, he walked upstairs, reaching the roof, which served as terrace.

Seungmin didn’t take a seat, instead he leaned on the railing of the terrace with his arms, looking at the scenery. In the blink of an eye, he felt safe, calm, at ease. Seungmin was living life at its finest: a good sandwich, nobody bothering him, a fresh breeze that was slightly ruffling his hair. Usually, he spent that time alone but, if he had to be brutally honest, that was exactly why he enjoyed going there.

His sandwich was almost finished and around his mouth there still were some breadcrumbs, when he heard someone getting closer. The footsteps were light (he heard them almost by accident), as if the owner didn’t want to disturb anyone – in fact, they didn’t at all. However, the last thing Seungmin could’ve imagined was the stranger leaning on the railing, as well.

Once he felt the railing shaking due to someone else's weight, Seungmin turned around to discover how the stranger looked like. Truthfully, he had to stop himself staring at some point, because he figured out that he could’ve looked spooky if he kept staring at the guy; but he couldn’t actually help it, he was too gorgeous, too fascinating. And he wasn’t even striving: all he was doing was holding, just like him, a sandwich and observing the scenario.

“It’s a shame this place isn’t famous, isn’t it?” when he talked, Seungmin struggled believing that he was actually speaking to him. He found himself kind of surprised, his jaw was starting hurting. The voice of the speaker was deep, captivating: as soon as he had mumbled a word, Seungmin was already fond of his voice.

“Yeah, definitely. Do you come here often?” Seungmin could tell that the guy just a few steps from him was speaking his mind, so he decided to do the same. He had the feeling they were similar, he had to admit.

“Every now and then, I didn't feel like going to class.”what left Seungmin a little confused was that the guy talked to him like they were friends; Seungmin wasn’t shy nor worried in front of new people or situations, but neither he became familiar so quickly. The student’s words were so smooth that they seemed to slip out his mouth.

“You too? Good to know.” he thought that sliding a joke would have been helpful. In reality, he was trying to copy the other's mannerism.

“Why?” the stranger giggled, while he was still eating his sandwich.

“You seem nice. I’d love to have lunch with you again someday.”

“Me too. I mean, why not, that’s an excuse to skip class more often.” he looked away, although it was just for a second, Seungmin still noticed it. Then, he closed his lunch inside its envelope, “Hope to see you again, huh?”

The stranger turned around, leaving Seungmin alone once more. Well, now he had a big problem.

* * *

Jeongin, in the following days, understood many things.

First, Seneca was actually easier than he thought. If he tried to focus on the subject he was studying, he could understand it. Second, he still hated Latin. Third, he couldn’t stand anyone taking photos during his afternoon of crazy and miserable study and fourth, Seungmin was exhausted.

Jeongin knew Seungmin better than anyone else for sure: they had been best friends since forever, always together on the most hard of times, not even getting close to adulthood pulled them apart. But now, however, Jeongin noticed something under Seungmin’s eyes, on the rough palm of his hand, on his nude feet that were getting fresher leaning on the field.

Seungmin – Jeongin could see it – had been staring at that statue since they had started studying. More than studying, well, it was more like Jeongin losing his mind over some strange translation about a fox and Seungmin spacing out from the world. It was fine, though. It sounded like Seungmin doing whatever crossed his mind, he didn’t care much about what people thought of him. This was one of the quality Jeongin was envious of, he wondered when he learnt to act like this.

“Minnie, what’s the matter?” if Jeongin had had known the answer to his question, he'd have kept to himself, but that wasn't the case, he just asked it. He even gave Seungmin a worried glance; his actions spoke much better then his own words.

“Have you finished?”

Jeongin sighed in tiredness. It didn't matter if he asked or not, Seungmin was too good at avoiding his questions, “Mh, I haven’t.”

“What do you need, then?” the forced attitude Seungmin was trying so hard to realise was hilarious; the boy even faked a smile. What an awful liar. Perhaps he could've fooled anyone else, but not Jeongin, he knew Seungmin as much as he knew himself.

“I asked you what the matter was. What is it?” Jeongin moved away the book from his crossed legs, so that he could lean his arms against them and give a dirty look at his friend, “You aren’t telling me the truth, man.”

“I think you just don0t want to study but okay, you're the one who's going to fail the next exam.”

“Whatever.” the younger rolled his eyes, still feeling like challenging his best friend, “So, why are you avoiding my questions?”

“’Cause I hate them.” admitted Seungmin, laying completely on the grass; looking at the sky. Seungmin was definitely a person who didn’t care, yet beyond his bones, straight into his soul there was a still fragile soul, living in the body of the strongest person Jeongin knew.

“I got it, you don’t wanna talk.” the latter reasoned a bit bothered, searching for the book he threw away. He should’ve stopped getting rid of stuff that way. And he could swear, getting up to get it back was way too tiresome.

Jeongin sighed, then left his comfortable position, when Seungmin started talking, “I met someone today.” The younger turned around, and saw the other still looking at the blue sky. Was he embarrassed? Jeongin couldn’t really tell. The latter grabbed his Latin book back and kneeled in front of Seungmin.

“What?” the surprising news found Jeongin unprepared, he had spent many years by his friend’s side, but that was oddly new to the both of them. Crazy.

“I met someone today. At lunch.” he repeated calmly, even though is whole body was bursting slowly into flame.

“And when were you planning on telling me?”

“After I have tutored you?”

Jeongin tsked, “Yeah, sure.” he raised his eyebrow, as there was some hidden messagge among Seungmin’s words, “Who are they? Do you know their name? How do they look like?”

Seungmin bit his lower lip, bothered: he looked like he was trying to remember as many details as possible, “I gotta be honest, I don't remember much. His voice impressed me, it was so deep. It just wasn’t similar to any other I’ve heard. Like it was calling me?”

“Calling you?” the younger giggled, and the elder sit down crossing his leg, to face Jeongin.

“Yeah, what’s wrong with that? Anyway, it didn’t last much. He left me after having chatted a little.”

“And there’s no way you’ll see him again?”

Seungmin shrugged, “He said he’d enjoy see me again for lunch.”

“Do you believe him?”

“Not even a little bit” the elder munched, “I mean, he wouldn’t have ran off like that otherwise, right?” Jeongin was staring at him in confusion, “You know what? I don’t care. It’s just a guy who wanted to have a talk while he was eating.”

“If you say so, you looked kinda into him…”

“And? Who cares!”

Right after, Jeongin got distracted by a camera.

Again.

It seemed that it was his biggest problem. To be honest, he didn’t even know why; he was just used to be irritated, that the sound of _the_ camera became frustrating regardless. “Gosh, what’s so interesting in photographing that statue?” he also screamed, so loud that the people he was referring to turned around. Obvioulsy, Jeongin didn’t notice because he was turning them his back.

“Erm, Innie?”

“What?” Seungmin’s gaze was more than enough to get aware of the fact that they (whoever they were) heard him.

He tilted his head, and then turned around enough to see if it was actually true. Of course it was. Jeongin was still highly disturbed by their noise, so he didn’t really care about the fact that he had made some annoying strangers upset. When he turned around, he saw the two guys standing a bit further from them, staring. Truthfully, Jeongin found himself blushing, being at the centre of the attention for such a silly thing was way humiliating.

The first impression Jeongin had was surely driven by the embarrassment he was feeling and the nuisance he had toward them. The one who caught his attention didn’t had any camera around his neck, instead he seemed rather neutral about the situation they ended up into. Nobody could deny it, it was a fact that the boy was a huge cliché: light red, almost pink hair that reminded Jeongin of the dark days of his personal high school career; a leather jacket which resembled a bit too much the one his mother used to wear during her adolescence, and then the denim jeans that probably hadn’t seen a washing machine for ages. The boy’s aura confused Jeongin, who wondered why someone like this had next to him someone like the guy with a camera in his hands. Moreover, he wondered why Seungmin couldn’t get his eyes off of him. Was his heart so light?

“I’m sorry if I bothered y’all, we were about to go, anyway.” Jeongin looked up at the stranger, finding out that he was exactly the sinner.

His traits were softer, which was emphasized by the clothes he was wearing and the calm way he talked: he was wearing a wool, burgundy sweater, which let other people see the white shirt collar; his legs were covered by denim jeans, too. His black hair was about to fall gently on his shoulder but never did (probably, he wasn’t fond of cutting his hair regularly), his hands were still holding the camera like he would’ve hold his child and he was showing a smile despite someone had just slightly insulted him. But Jeongin didn’t care of any of these details, too caught up in the moment. In fact, Jeongin’s backbone was shivering because of the tension and he was ready to blurt out. Just like a rabid dog, he was glancing at that sort of photographer.

“Have we met before?” suddenly, the attention shifted to the red haired boy who, surprisingly, was talking to Seungmin. So blatant everything was, that even a deaf person could have understood. The voice the stranger exhibited everyday was warm, deep, calm;making it easy to imagine yourself on a sofa, under a woollen blanket, sipping a hot chocolate in a freezing winter day. But above all, Jeongin realised that the particular voice belonged to the one Seungmin talked about.

The other giggled, standing up, “I guess so” Seungmin was so weird, he seemed kind of feverish around him, Jeongin immediately thought. What was strange, though? Translating from Latin a story about a fox, almost arguing because of a picture or being happy since you had the slight impression that you met the one? Jeongin turned toward Seungmin, trying to understand his movements.

“Erm, we were going to take some photos near the old town. Wanna come?” the stranger asked. Seungmin didn’t think twice about denying or accepting his suggestion and nodded.

Now, Jeongin was the only one sitting and had no intention to stand up.

“You can come, too. Do you need a hand?” the black haired boy had kneeled down next to him, offering Jeongin his hand. There was something about him that didn’t convince the stubborn Jeongin, but he didn’t know what it was.

Still, Jeongin forced a smile, “No, thanks. I’ve got some stuff to do.”

The boy didn’t let that rude answer bring him down, “Oh, okay. It’s fine. See you, huh?”

“Hyunjin, let it go.” his friend suggested him, tilting his head in order to announce silently that they had to hurry.

Seungmin took his backpack, getting closer to his best friend, “Innie, you should come.”

“It’s okay, go and get your man.” Jeongin whispered, careful not to be heard by the other two and making Seungmin rolling his eyes. He was giggling, so the younger knew he didn’t mind.

Before he could process it all, he was lying on the field next to his Latin book, his notebooks and some pens spread around. While he was considering the option of taking a nap, a thought crossed his mind: that click which annoyed him so bad had a name and it was Hyunjin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i don't really know what's this lol btw, let me know what you think !! thanks fr appreciating <33


	3. A tangle of lines

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jeongin misunderstood what Seungmin told him.

“Wait, help me out. What’s his name?”

The rain outside, that day, was covering Jeongin’s question. Due to the weather, Jeongin and Seungmin decided to have lunch and study indoor. They hadn’t opened a book yet, because Seungmin couldn’t help telling Jeongin everything that happened a few days before.

Seungmin sipped a little water from his glass, “Felix, Innie: Felix!”

“I can’t believe someone like him has a cat’s name” laughed Jeongin spontaneously. The elder immediately glanced at him, making the younger stop, “Okay, okay. I know you’re dying to tell me what happened during this crazy afternoon.”

Jeongin found hard to believe he was seeing his friend like this. If he didn’t know what was happening in his life, he would think he was dangerously sick. Jeongin had never fallen in love, but seeing love infecting Seungmin’s soul was the same as experiencing it himself. He could see his friend’s eyes lost in his own world, as if, yes, they were looking at you, they were seeing the same things as always, without being there; wandering around a wider, freer, less realistic, so distant place. A place nobody but his eyes could reach: the land of infatuation.

“You know, it’s such a shame you didn’t come. I had fun, they’re both nice people.”

That statement got Jeongin frowning, he couldn’t understand who he was referring to, “ _They’re_?”

“Yeah, Felix and Hyunjin!” exclaimed Seungmin as if everything was obvious to the younger.

Anyway, as soon as Seungmin prounounced Hyunjin’s name, Jeongin remembered everything: Hyunjin was that strange guy who found amusing taking photos to the statue of that poor woman whose last crumbs of soul were living in the park Seungmin loved to study at. “Oh, that’s great, then.”

“It is! They brought me near the city castle, Hyunjin had to take some photos there for an exam. We’ve explored a part of a city I didn’t know.”

“Oh my God, now I see why he feels the need to disturb my relationship with Latin every time.” whispered Jeongin, getting actually aware of many aspects he ignored until that moment.

“I saw his photos, they’re great. By the way, I’ve had such a lovely talk with Felix and-“

“And you’re planning on marrying him?”

The elder glanced at him for the second time, “I’ve never told you I have a crush on him.”

“The way you act’s speaking for you.” after those words, Seungmin looked away, maybe just to avoid Jeongin. The latter tilted his head, thinking that he could’ve crossed the line. Love’s always obvious for those who don’t feel it; to them, it’s like a smooth black line on a white canvas.. But to the ones who feel it, Gosh, then it’s a tangle of lines with the most different and misleading colours.

“I think I just want to know him more, that’s all.” in that moment, the brown haired boy’s gaze was begging Jeongin to put it all aside and talk about something else. There was nothing to do, the younger couldn’t resist that innocent praise.

“Maybe we should talk about Felix and all later, shouldn’t we?” the black haired young man didn’t continue in order to wait for Seungmin to nod, “So, what are we going to do today?”

Jeongin came for the first time across latin when he was a bit more than an adolescent. He didn’t know much about it at the time, if he had to be honest. When you’re fourteen years old you don’t know much about what you’re going to come across to, in general. Jeongin thought its name wasn’t so bad. It’s not very poetic, but that’s how he encountered the antic language. He, however, ended up quitting pretty early, so when he opened five years later a latin book he found himself disoriented.

He was disoriented. Yes, holding a heavy dictionary, spending nights translating, learning new grammar rules, yet still disoriented. And many times he thought that his mother was right, that studying latin wouldn’t have brought him anywhere, but here was the thing: he didn’t know what else he was supposed to do. It was just a name that intrigued him as a toddler, it was an impulsive choice, still he felt it was the only one to pick. And even if now only the thought of being tested about it left his stomach unsettled, it was all right.

“Minnie?” the elder looked at him, although he was focused on searching a word on the dictionary. Flicking through the wide pages was the only noise Jeongin could hear from him. Seungmin didn’t explain for the umpteenth time a basic rule or convince him that the younger took the right choice despite what his mum told him either, he’d been silent.

“Huh?”

“Are you mad at me?” Jeongin asked, unsure and quite afraid of using the wrong words.

“What? Not at all, I.. I’ve been just spacing out for a moment.” shuttered his friend, as if he came alive in that moment. Then, he drew nearer Jeongin, to ensure what he was doing, “Do you think volero is actually the first person singular of the future tense of volum?” the younger raised his eyebrow, nodding. That silent and shy statement got Seungmin shaking his head, “But it belongs to the third group..”

Jeongin sighed, he ended up forgetting those little things by dint of not following his study schedule regularly, “Oh, let me think about that.”

“You’d better.”

The student flicked through the pages of his text book, seeking for the future tense of verbs. Did something more boring exist? By the way, to be honest, Jeongin was craving to know what Seungmin was hiding from him – wheter he was really hiding something. He was sure, it was the same thing he slightly noticed at the park that day; they had the same nature, the same birthplace. While he was losing his mind over his own worries, he finally found what he was searching for, “It’s volam, isn’t it?” the other moved the head as a sign of consent, with the small smile of who already knew the answer and was waiting for you to find it.

With a lightining-fast movement, the younger closed his notebook and the dictionary in front of his friend, “Let’s call it a day” he suggested, while his thin, a bit veiny and pale hand was still on Seungmin’s dictionary. The latter, of course, found himself skeptical ahead of Jeongin’s tight smile; or that’s what the younger could tell from the shape Seungmin’s mouth got.

“You’re hiding something, Yang.” suddenly, Jeongin felt his throat getting drier, even though he hadn’t ever lied or hid something from his best friend. What was it?

“Hmm? Absolutely not! I feel like having a healthy chat with my best friend, will I be killed for that?” pouted he, in a ridicolous bid of making Seungmin pity him.

The older giggled, waving firstly his hand and then clapping the said hands slowly and, somehow, gently; meanwhile, little wrinkles arose around his eyes, pointing at the younger with the index finger,“You, little nosey!” however, Seungmin, right after that, described pretty thoroughly his magical afternoon, not without getting lost in his own words, details he clearly didn’t want to forget. He was like this: totally obsessed with something or totally uninterested, Jeongin knew it perfectly. It was a kind of defense, an unpredictable way to prevent ending up shattered, heartbroken. Seungmin was such a good liar, though.

In any case, listening to his friend was way better than.. whatever he was trying to do with that translation. At some point, damn, Jeongin’s attention was lacking – had they already spent half an hour talking? Outside, it didn’t stop raining heavily, Seungmin was still excited, while Jeongin rested his chin on the palm of his hand, looking outside. The window was creped by raindrops, which delicately fell on the ground, or on the smooth surface he was looking at the world with. The world.. saying that was incredibly exaggerated, the coworking they were in was facing many other flats, palaces; without mentioning the drenched sidewalk and road. Nobody bothered going out on a rainy day and it was totally understandable.

Lulled by Seungmin’s voice, Jeongin kept looking outside, until he noticed someone running in the rain, even without an umbrella, wait he was..?

“So, what do you think?” suddenly the other asked, waking up Jeongin from his own world. But there was a problem: he didn’t know what his friend was talking about, so he stretched a little bit to gain time and think of an excuse, “Innie?”

The latter exasperated an absorbed visage, gesturing as much as he could. Then, finally, he decided he should’ve given Seungmin a proper answer, “Probably, you should take your time, shouldn’t you?”

Seungmin giggled, looking up at the ceiling to find the better way to talk to his friend, “Were you even listening to me?”

“Actually, I got lost..”

“When?”

He puffed, “I don’t know, you were talking about Felix’s hair and how soft it seems and…”

“Okay, got it, got it.” mumbled he, ending the sentence with a sigh, “I was telling you that he invited me to a party.”

“That’s beautiful, Minnie” started Jeongin, smiling genuinely at the older and resting a hand on his shoulder, “You should definitely go, you’ll have so much fun.”

Seungmin smirked, “I know that, of course! I can’t pass up an opportunity like this!”

“ _Opportunity?_ ”

“Yeah, to, erm, become friends, I think.” perhaps, he was convinced that Jeongin was falling for that. Little did he know, that the younger wasn’t at all, “That’s not the point, though. I’d like you to come. You said that yourself, it’s gonna be fun.”

“Out of question! I know nobody there, I openly hate parties and..” he didn’t even have time to finish his complain, that Seungmin was already intertwining his hands, putting on a sweet face: all that to beg Jeongin to come, too. “Oh no, don’t use the puppy face card with me, man.”

“Please, I can’t go there on my own! If you’re there, we’ll have our back, won’t we?”

Jeongin grinned, “Is this Kim Seungmin talking? Are you sure? Kim Seungmin is scared and worrying about something?” after that, he rolled his eyes, “When’s the party?”

“Saturday”

The younger gasped, “Do you mean the day after tomorrow? Why you’re telling me so late?”

“So you can’t change your mind.” tsked Seungmin, “By the way, it’s Seo Changbin’s party, that’s what Felix told me, consequently it’ll be at his venue.”

“Does he own a venue?”

“No, he actually doesn’t. It’s his parents’, but being their son he has a bit of freedom, I guess. To decide to throw a party, at least.” then, they stayed silent for a while. Seungmin didn’t know what to say, Jeongin didn’t know what choice he should’ve taken.

“I’ll ask you, for the last time: do you fancy coming?”

Jeongin pouted, “Fine, I’ll come.”

* * *

The wardrobe’s door was opened with a strong slam, a sound that probably everyone in the dorm had heard. Jeongin was looking disconsolate for something to put on that night. And no, he seemed not having anything suitable to wear.

“God Jeongin, are you trying to raise the dead?” his roomate complained, turning again and again on his bed.

“Minho, it’s a matter of life or death.” explained Jeongin, while he was looking at a sort of flowery shirt: it was indeed to much, “Do you still have headache?” he never received an answer, but it would’ve probably been yes. Not hearing anything, he put away the shirt, sighing; he was supposed to meet Seungmin in less than twenty minutes and he was inexorably staring at his closet, hoping it would’ve shown him a solution.

In a different situation, Jeongin couldn’t have been less interested in appearing fashionable or elegant – he was one of those people who wear for three days in a row the same t-shirt, if it isn’t dirty or sweaty. But this time it was unlike, he was presumably going to go to a fancy venue, one of those with soft lights, a large buffet or, Jeongin thought, something like that. And moreover, Seungmin was so hyped and cared about this event, that he couldn’t just show himself up. He wished it wasn’t a smart context for real – Seungmin would’ve told him, right? The boy let out a deep breath: he was ultimately stressed.

“Why are you acting so weird tonight? Babies are supposed to sleep right now.” munched Minho, still trying to find a comfortable position to sleep. He covered his eyes with the hands because the lights were on, although he wanted to fall asleep, “Wait, do you have something important to do that you decided I won’t sleep?”

Jeongin closed the wardrobe out of the blue, sitting, then, on his bed, “I’ve got a party tonight.”

The other turned toward the younger’s bed, “Are you serious? I thought you didn’t like this kind of things.” and Minho was right, Jeongin _despised_ those silly social events.

“In fact, I do. Seungmin cares about it so much, though. I just can’t let him go all alone, he’s my best friend!”

Minho rised his head a little, still enough to look at his roomate stealthily, “I thought I was, you brat.”

“You think too much, have I ever told you that? Anyway, the point is that this feast is awfully important to him, so I have to be the best person I can.”

The elder’s face coloured with an expression of disagreement, “Ding dong, he chose the wrong person.”

“Haha, you’re such a comedian.” right after, the young man cried out in disperation, “I gotta meet Seungmin in, like, fifteen minutes, more or less? And I’m still in trouble.”

Minho sighed, getting, at least, his back up despite the painful headache (in fact, he pressed a hand on his forehead, thinking it would’ve contained the grief), “Open my closet” he started, pointing exactly at it, “Grab something, I’m sure you’ll find what you’re looking for”

Jeongin pressed his lips against each other, “Thanks, Min”

“Will I get my best friend card now?” the young man joked, finally coming back to his original position.

The younger, meanwhile, opened his roomate’s closet, “It’s hard to get, it’ll take some time”

Just in time, Jeongin put on what he personally thought was fancy enough to a similar occasion. The long, slim legs were covered by black corduroys, while he opted for a white v-necked shirt without buttons. He considered that it could’ve been cold that night, so he wore an open sweater as well. As he put on the shoes, he looked at himself in the mirror; he clearly didn’t want to, but he was ready to spend that horrible night.

“Don’t you need something for your migraine?” asked Jeongin, that was already in front of the door.

“No, don’t worry. I’m happy because I’ll finally get some sleep.”the other said with a sweet smile, “Tell me if I’m wrong, isn’t it Seo Changbin’s party?”

Jeongin immediately turned toward Minho, “Yeah, how did you know it?”

The elder tsked, “Jisung told me, Seungmin’s been talking about it for entire days.” now, from the bed, he was looking at the ceiling, “Please, don’t let Seungmin see them.”

“ _Them?”_ gasped Jeongin, why did it seem he never knew nothing?

“Forget that, you’ll figure it out on your own.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi !! first of all, we’re getting a skz full album soon ??? I CANT . second of all, hope you’ve liked this chapter <33 lmk what you think, you can also find me on twt always as @writinghwang  
> see you soon, take care :]


	4. No reason

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hyunjin ran in the rain.

Hyunjin loved parties – he loved the coloured lights, the popcorn framed in the cracks of the sofa, the bottles filled with gluten free beer, the people tacked on each other like chewingums on a sidewalk, the bathroom always occupied, the songs nobody knows a word of, the eyes becoming a little tired after entire hours spent in a poorly lit place and the comfort of your bed, once you get out and feel a strange emptiness just under your throat, just above your belly. Hyunjin loved this all.

The young man didn’t have lots of certainties in his life, except that which he could always rely on: no matter what, he always had someone by his side. That was the great luck of parties: never remain a single second alone. If he had someone to talk with, he had nothing to fear. If he had someone to talk with, his deep dark holes were, then, just a bittersweet memory. Hyunjin’s memories were vivid in his heart and crystal clear in his eyes, he couldn’t run away from them. They were born in the polished glass of a camera’s lens and lived through on a translucent surface: a photo.

There was just something magical about the process of pressing a button and getting your memory, that disrupted Hyunjin every time. Everyday was the same day and every year was a different millenium, but on that photo, on that colorful bunch of pieces of Earth, everything was special. Everything was remarkable.

It wasn’t just a quick night.

Hyunjin had to meet Changbin at his place, right after the latter had called him six, maybe seven times. Changbin was Hyunjin’s safe place, the only language he could talk naturally, the home he wished he had had: he wasn’t just his best friend, he was the only one, even if he was always surrounded by many acquaintances. But how people show us through life, individuals aren’t coeherent, magnanimous or genuine.

However, what’s important is that Hyunjin, during the rainiest day he had ever seen in his life, was running in the rain to reach Changbin’s room. As soon as he answered the call, in fact, he got out to meet Changbin in order to talk about “an important thing” (his words). Hyunjin wondered what it was... did he want to quit university? Did he decide to move away? It was pointless to bother so much his fantasy, because he was, anyway, about to know the truth.

The hallway he went through had never been longer, while his breaths were heavy and fatigued (he had forgot his umbrella at home) and little drops were covering his view and wetting his face. No, his beloved hair didn’t survive. In any case, Hyunjin looked hastily for the right room until he found it. As he knocked the door, someone opened and waiting for him there was exactly Changbin.

“I hope that’s important because I ran all the way here under a flood.” told Hyunjin rather tired, while he was getting into his friend’s place. The latter, meanwhile, was worrying about the moquette, since it was getting wetter and wetter because of Hyunjin. He loved him, he really did, but sometimes he had his head in the clouds.

“Don’t move, Jinnie. Take off your shoes first.” adviced him Changbin, “Oh, and Chan isn’t here, he told me he had some stuff to do.”

“He’s always busy” the other commented, putting his shoes next to the door. There was something homely in Hyunjin’s actions when he was around Changbin, and viceversa. Even taking off the shoes and pulling them aside not to dirty the entire room reminded the both of them the days they spent playing around together as kids, they spent almost all their life together.

“You’d like something?”

Hyunjin stretched a little, “No, and I don’t think you have something to offer me here” it was pretty obvious that he was referring to the minimalist style both Changbin and Chan loved, consequently their place was tidy and, if you took a good look around, a little empty.

“You’re just messy.” observed the elder, Changbin, “And I was talking about your clothes being drenched, don’t you need something dry?” the other nodded, he knew that it was impossible to decline his offers anway.

Meanwhile the rain was falling precipitously to the ground, making company to the two friends, Changbin had opened his closet and Hyunjin was there, astounded, looking at him. Changbin was a fifty year-old living in the body of a twenty year-old; the eyes were even-tempered, the smile he showed was calm and the clothing he wore was all but casual. It was just in the look, though. Precisely, Hyunjin and Changbin’s temperaments were inextricably close, similar; as if they were looking at each other through a mirror.

A few minutes and arguments about the too short pants Changbin wanted to lend him after, Hyunjin was in the bathroom changing his clothes. As a matter of fact, they were soaked. The young man collected his poor clothes from the floor and headed back to Changbin. The latter was waiting for him sitting on his desk’s chair.

“Thank you, by the way.” started Hyunjin, sitting down in front of him on his bed, “Erm, you wanted to tell me something, didnit you?”

Changbin’s visage was all but reassuring, which is why the guy was dying from anxiety. What was that shiver? What did it arose for? His mind was, now, overreacting; he couldn’t help it any more. His best friend’s lips were tortured by his teeth, so much that at some point the younger feared that they would’ve started bleeding. _Please, please, tell me something now._

“I’m throwing a party in two days” claimed Changbin, giving birth to a small smile, “I thought you could take some pictures. Only if you want, of course.”

Hyunjin’s jaw was almost touching his friend’s beloved moquette, how could Changbin be so cruel with him?

“Let me see, you called me during a freaking thunderstorm just to tell me that? I thought it was important!”

The elder winced, “It is, isn’t it?”

“Nevermind, I’ll definitely help you.” he sighed, “I’m just sad I won’t party in the same way as always, but I’ll make an effort. See how much I love you?”

“I know that deep down you’re just hiding behind your strong boy’s aura”

He looked away, “I’ll be at.. your parents’venue?” Changbin nodded, “I’ll be there at nine.”

* * *

Hyunjin cleaned the lens of his camera with an old cloth.

The venue was still empty, over the wall there were three tables with many delicious plates and the waiters were busy arranging the last adjustments. Hyunjin had already went around the place, to make sure which were the best angulations in which take the photos. Changbin’s family establishment was perfect to have a party, it was already quite wide and when all the tables that usually hosted many guests had been relocated, the room seemed even bigger. Instead, Changbin was with Chan and Changmin, just to check that everything was ready.

Hyunjin was alone, taking care of his camera on a little sofa placed in the room specifically for the event. He looked around. Opposite the entrance door, there was a marvelous stained glass window, which faced a little indoor garden. The young man giggled, nobody had never known he threw up in one of those bushes. And Changbin hadn’t absolutely to know. As soon as he thought that, the other three young men walked up the room; his best friend was in the middle, while Chan and Changmin were at his left: their hands thouching slightly each other.

“Are you done with that thing?” asked Chan, as he was sitting next to Hyunjin on the sofa.

Chan was smiley. Hyunjin believed it was the main reason why he became friends with him. No matter what was happening, he was able to put on a smile and end all of your problems. That smiley attitude was evident in his gestures, his mannerisms. It was evident in every inch of his skin, as it was his own epidermis. Chan was about to leave, though: his college years were slowly coming to an end. Hyunjin struggled to picture a routine without his friend; he didn’t mean to think so loud, that Chan had to turn around to look at Woojin, who was sitting on the settee’s armrest. Woojin happened, for who knows which reason, to be Hyunjin’s roommate. He found himself joyful any time the thought that he was really lucky to have his friends so close to him fell gently on him.

“Yeah, I am. It needed to be cleaned a little.”

“I know you’ll do great, Jinnie. Everyone will remember you for your pictures!”

Hyunjin shook his head laughing silently, “People care only about the photo: sad but true.” then, he totally let himself precipitate on the soft cushions on the sofa. He wasn’t sad that day, but strangely he didn’t feel like having a party; maybe because he didn’t need to celebrate something, maybe because he didn’t please taking photos to people who could not want to appear in his art. Photography wasn’t just a matter of subjects, lights or whatever he had to read on his text books; it was, somewhat, about fortune, misfortune and, why not, be on time. “Anyway, I guess I’ll stay nearby the entrace tonight, don’t you mind it?”

Instead, Changbin looked like he couldn’t stay still that night. He was in front of the three of them, but he was cracking his fingers, looking at the wall, then at the floor, then at the ceiling, then at his hands and again at the wall. Surely, seeing him upset was unusual. Hyunjin noticed it, he paid attention to his friend’s disinterest in Chan letting him, Hyunjin, know that he would’ve been there if he had needed a hand during the event. He didn’t say anything, it wasn’t his style; he knew if Changbin had wanted to talk, he would’ve decided on his own.

“Is Felix coming?” however, Changmin’s voice spoke for both Changbin and Hyunjin. The first one was caught unprepared by the unexpected question, but he looked after it not to be blatant. The second one gave a quick look at the other, as if he had already understood what he should’ve seen.

Changbin puffed, “Well, he told me he would’ve brought a friend of his. So, probably he’ll come with him.”

Changmin nodded in understanding, “I see.” the conversation, not needed to be said, died right away.

Felix, instead, came into Hyunjin’s life just a year before, in the most ordinary way someone could imagine. They met at their first class and the young man made crystal clear what kind of person he was. Of course, understanding and letting him come into his days hadn’t been easy, Felix wasn’t simple. But he seemed strong, confident, affaible and Hyunjin couldn’t help becoming eventually friends with him. If Felix was the bright light, then Hyunjin, next to him, was the flower which was softly thouched by it.

Yet, Felix was unpredictable.

More or less an hour later, the venue was overcrowded. It seemed like everyone was having fun shamelessly in front of Hyunjin. He didn’t complain, though. Photographing was a great escape from that chaos; he had to admit he took pretty good photos, too. The young man’s favourite subjects were, indeed, people. He was convinced that, no matter how good you are or which expensive camera you own, no subject is better than people. Of course, many remarkable and wonderful shots didn’t contain them, but how could somebody not drown seeing the whole story two eyes can tell?

Hyunjin was boringly leaning against the wall, near the entrance door. His eyes were moving patiently from the guests getting in and out the venue, who knows for which reason, to the crowded room in which he got already bored staying in. He, then, looked down at his camera, his reliable friend.

Meanwhile, Changbin was going around like a true host, greeting and joking with everybody as if they were close friends. Hyunjin wouldn’t be surprised whether, someday, his best friend inherited the place from his parents. However, that night was unlike, even if it was just a tiny difference. Changbin was there, Hyunjin could see it without any problem from his position, speaking fluently and laughing; but his arm was wrapped around Felix’s shoulder and the latter was staring at him. Hyunjin had to struggle a bit more, but in the end he recognized the person they were talking to, as well.

Seungmin.

“Seems like you’ve already got bored.” Hyunjin turned around, finding out that Changmin was now next to him. He and his roommate weren’t so similar, they just happened to get on well: if Hyunjin was open and, whenever he was feeling like, talkative, then Changmin trickled his words. But if Hyunjin was confused, down or just sad, then Changmin was the ear his mouth needed, that his heart needed.

“Parties are fun only if you have them, otherwise they’re kind of dull.” his voice was muffled by the loud music, so Changmin had to get a bit closer in order to hear him properly.

“Full?”

“Dull, I said.” right after, his friend nodded in agreement, “And it seems like you aren’t having fun, too.”

“Perhaps.” Hyunjin looked at him in disbelief, “Okay, I’m actually losing my shit, you got me.” admitted he, putting his hands up, careful not to make fall the glass in his right hand.

“What’s that?”

“A glass?”

“Can I have some?” that night he was almost getting deaf due to the music, he had to stay on his own to take photos, the least he could do was drinking a bit. In fact, he showed the biggest smile as soon as Changmin passed him the glass, “Aren’t you gonna tell me what’s in this at all?”

“Orange juice.”

Hyunjin glanced at him, “I always forget you’re a teetoaler.” but he drank a little of it, anyway.

“Better drinking orange juice than throwing up in your best friend’s indoor garden.”

Hyunjin gasped, “How do you know..?”

“Changbin told me, but it doesn’t matter.” Changmin looked in the same direction he got lost in a few minutes before, “He asked me if you could go to him, there’s this Felix’s friend and he’s sorry he’s feeling alone.”

“Why should he?” his friend shrugged in response, “Well, I guess I’ll go, as a matter of fact I’ve nothing to do.”

* * *

Hyunjin found Seungmin a nice guy. From the begininng, when he discovered that, somehow, he knew Felix. He didn’t mind spending time with him, although that time they hang out he had been forced to be the third wheel. Not that he hadn’t an exam to prepare, anyway. Seungmin was all right.

So, why did Felix decide to make him suffer?

Truthfully, the situation he caught up into was pretty embarrassing. The orange juice he borrowed from Changmin was almost over, the conversation were short and usually closed with a nod and, not to mention, Changbin and Felix made this all just more regrettable. They were all together in a circle, so they could see each other. The new arrived was visibly puzzled even though he didn’t show it, Chan was acting like it was nothing, Hyunjin tried to sip even the last drop of that juice (hoping he would’ve choked) and Changbin and Felix.. Oh, at least they had stopped searching for saliva in each other’s mouths.

Hyunjin didn’t know how to describe their relationship – assuming that it was one. He didn’t ask many questions either, because he wouldn’t have got any. What he could see was only that some days they talked as friends, some days they were kissing, some days it felt like they didn’t even know each other, and other days again it was just strange. Were they even tied up together by puny, fragile feeling? Seriously, how could they decipher it? It was impossible, however, not feel guilty in front of Seungmin’s gaze. He pretended to be untouched by it, and Hyunjin maybe fall for that. Too bad that sadness, sometimes, is hopeless trying to conceal a bit of disappointment.

Then, there was an exchange of glances between Chan and Hyunjin; the first one tilted his head pointing the stained glass window, while the second one nodded. The latter moved his body in insecurity like a wave, tipping his fingertips on the plastic cup. Chan was quite impatient, so he ordered silently to Hyunjin to hurry up, gritting his teeth, too.

“I haven’t taken many pictures so far” claimed the black haired boy, still unsure of how continue that fictitious conversation he had to start, “Bin, would you like having some photos in the garden as well?”

At that statement, Changbin took his eyes off of the red haired guy, “Huh, yeah. I mean, why not!” . The awkwardness was palpable, and touching it was like diving in a ton of scented mud.

“Well, then I’ll go taking them. Illuminations are insane” giggled he in nervousness, “Chan, do you mind, erm, helping me?”

“Of course. Seungmin, do you wanna join us?” the latter looked around, as if he was seeking for someone among that bunch of people or he was analyzing all the imaginable options. In the end, he just agreed nodding a bit.

The three of them quickly greeted Changbin and Felix, drawing near to the glass door. As soon as Chan opened it, they found themselves inside the garden whose trees were enlightened by decorative lights on their foliage; it gave to the backyard a sense of calm, serenity and peace. The biggest three was placed in the middle of the yard, on both sides it was surrounded by a little path of cobble stones and to delimit the space of the garden, on the two opposite sides of this little heaven, there was a bench, many bushes and colorful flowers. It was indeed magical. And bizarre was thinking how behind a crowded, messy place there was.. that.

“Jeongin? Is that you? What are you doing here?” said Chan amazed and slightly happy. At those words, the other two looked at who Hyunjin thought was Jeongin. He found himself surprised noticing that he had already seen his face somewhere. The said guy was sitting on the bench on the left side of the courtyard, with a confused expression because he had just heard Chan’s voice. It probably wasn’t his night, or his place; perhaps it was the reason why he was sitting there all alone.

Just two, maybe three seconds later Jeongin was running toward Chan, hugging him tightly, “Oh my God, it’s been such a long time!” he pulled him away to see Chan better, “I thought you disappeared into a wormhole. By the way, I’m here for a friend that should be..”

“Here. Nice to meet you again, I’m the friend.” Seungmin joked, putting his hand up and smiling widely. In that moment, Hyunjin understood everything. Or rather, he remembered everything. His mind came back to that afternoon of two weeks ago, when he had had with Felix that unusual encounter. “Innie, you should’ve told me where you were, we’d be together!”

Jeongin did it in a way it was almost subtle, but Hyunjin perceived his gaze on him anyway and, right after, he ignored his presence again, “Don’t worry, it hasn’t been that bad.”

“You haven’t changed at all, huh? I still remember when you entered in the room in your first year and..” his friend shrugged, leaving his sentence incomplete. Then, he felt a hand on his back – he soon realized it was Chan’s, who began to talk again, “And have you met Hyunjin? He’s one of my closest friends. Of course, Hyunjin, this is Jeongin, we used to be in the school choir together back in high school years.”

“Nice to meet you, well, properly now.” smiled Hyunjin, holding out his hand.

“Hi.” this was all Hyunjin received after his kind greeting: a cruel, strong, cold hi.

Chan saved the probable embarassment quickly, starting talking about high school, asking how Jeongin had been doing with University and having a conversation about many other topics Hyunjin wasn’t really interested in. He kept looking, just sometimes, at that Jeongin guy and he wondered why he seemed to despise him so much.

Hyunjin had never encountered any difficulty when it came to make new friends, but suddenly it appeared strangely hard. And Jeongin didn’t seem the most difficult person to understand either. Then why, why had he been rejected in that way? It wasn’t used to, but Hyunjin during their conversation didn’t say a word. He thought it wasn’t essential. And he wished, he wished that he had had something that he could hide behind. So, he decided to leave and go upstairs to the bathroom; his photos could have waited a bit longer. When he was indoor again, he noticed that, by now, the venue was less crowded than before. He looked for the stairs, and then for the bathroom and, finally, for the right place he could hide in.

He sat on the toilet. And there was silence again. Hyunjin could feel from his feet a mild tingling, his heart racing faster, his mind mumbling too many thoughts. Why was he so scared, unprepared, sensitive all of a sudden? What was missing? Why did his body seem so empty? What was that?

The door slammed.

“I think you’ve been too tough on him, you know?”

“I haven’t done anything.” those voices, they were familiar, but Hyunjin couldn’t completely recognize them.

“That’s the point! You aren’t supposed to act this rude.”

“Who’s the one whose heart should be broken?” the water started falling from the sink, “You or he?”

“My heart isn’t broken. I mean, there’s no reason . We met each other, he invited me to a party, he has a boyfriend: end of the story.”

“But you like him!”

“I’ve never said I did, c’mon. Anyway, you’re going back home alone? Do you need a lift?”

“No, no, thanks. I’ll have a walk.”

“At 3:00 am?”

“Mh, why not?”

“Listen, hurry up with washing your hands that I wanna get back at the dorm as soon as possible.”

The stranger closed the sink, “Have I told you my next exam is near?”

“Huh. What do you mean with near?”a noise Hyunjin couldn’t decipher made it difficult to understand the response.

And before he could think it was fair, the door closed again.

Thanks God, it was just a quick night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (cringe moment) today i was supposed to attend skz concert but guess what i’m home pretending to be happy !!  
> btw i couldn’t wait for sharing this chapter so i hope you’ve enjoyed it, lmk what you think <33


	5. Lucky Charm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jeongin's ninth birthday.

Jeongin, with his small and chubby index, counted all the candles on the cake: good, they were nine. From the dining room’s the child could see a calm, peaceful night and the moon shining a little bit more that night – that’s what he wanted to believe; it was his birthday, after all. His aunt was sitting next to him in a squared table that had enough space for three people. The chandelier enlightened with a warm light the room in which the nephew and his aunt were looking at each other.

Jeongin thought that elementary school was indeed a strange place to spend your own childhood, but he >had no other choice. Why was it a strange place? If he had been able to draw up more complex thoughts, he would have said that it wasn’t actually the place, on the other hand it was the way he lived his first years of school and, more generally, his childhood. In contrast to what everyone could say, being a kid isn’t that easy. However, children are quite talented to show people the opposite.

“Don’t you want to blow the candles? It’s running late, honeybunny.” suggested him the woman, checking his watch: 10.30 p.m.. The kid was supposed to be sleeping in that moment, yet he was still waiting for his mother to arrive in front of his ninth birthday cake, “Maybe next year we’d better celebrate with your classmates, what do you say?” asked she then kindly, caressing his forehead as if it was an excuse to brush his hair from the face.

“How did you find nine candles? They’re so so many!”

“You should ask the baker who prepared the cake. And..”

“She isn’t going to arrive any time soon, is she?” the birthday boy asked, ending the sentence with a pout.

Telling him the truth, to the aunt, was terribly hard, “You know she has lots of work to do.” she sighed, “By the way, we could eat the cake while we’re waiting for her.”

It sounded a good idea. Jeongin blew the candles, they clapped their hands and eat a slice of the dessert after hours spent looking at it. It seemed like the kid even forgot his mother absence. Sincerely, he didn’t but it wasn’t the right moment to make a fuss. So he leaned his intertwined arms against the table and covered his face, raising it a little to show a pout once more, “Can I ask you a question, auntie?”

The said woman smiled, “Of course you can, Jeongin.”

“Do you know our relatives? Like my uncles, my cousins, my grandfather, my grandmother, my.. Do other relatives exist?” she wanted to laugh, Jeongin was such a sweet boy. Just the action of looking at the ceiling as if he was trying not to forget any family member made him adorable. All of a sudden, a sad smile grew on her face: she knew them all, but she couldn’t absolutely let Jeongin meet them. Her sister forbid her to talk about family stuff. But right now, what was she supposed to do?

The woman wrapped his nephew around, giving him a sweet hug, “I know them very well, honeybunny. I know them as much as I know your mum.” reasoned she, resting her chin on the kid’s shoulder. As soon as she rested there, Jeongin decided to sit on her legs, in order to be hugged better.

“Why don’t I know them, then?”

“Oh, Jeongin, they live far away.”

“Far from this neighbourhood?”

“Even further.” the woman explained, “I have to give you something.” she pushed away the kid and grabbed his bag, seeking for a little blue box. When she had found it, she handed it to her beloved nephew, “It’s for you.”

Jeongin was confused, he had already received his present. And, moreover, what was that?

“Open it.”

What he found inside was the last thing he would’ve imagined: a bracelet. It wasn’t even similar to the ones his aunt wore; it was made of a tough string of plastic, the charms around it reminded the ones you can buy at the sea side – they all were of a transparent blue, Jeongin immediately adored that bracelet.

“Thank you, auntie.” he smiled, “But.. why did you get me a second present?”

The woman responded with a smile, too, “It has such a long story behind, honeybunny..”

* * *

Jeongin wasn’t likely to be messy, regardless all the times his mother opened his bedroom’s door, looked around (glacing at her own son) and shouted to “tidy up that stuff, your room _isn’t_ a pigsty”. Despite that, Jeongin couldn’t really call himself messy. Between Minho and him, he was, without any doubt, the neatest – just because he learnt pretty early that whatever you pick from a shelf, a box or any piece of furniture, then you must put it back in the place it belonged to. Minho didn’t know this rule for sure, but Jeongin couldn’t blame him either; in the end, his chaos was restricted to his part of the room; so, fortunately, it didn’t touch Jeongin directly. Consequently, they had never argued because of the status of their sweet dwelling. If Minho liked so much having some snacks’ package on his bed, it was fine as long as it didn’t ended up being on Jeongin’s bed.

On the other hand, Jeongin wasn’t likely to be an early bird and that made Minho the morning person between the two roommates. Minho was the one who raised the shutter, opened the window to refresh the room, took a shower, dried his hair and got dressed while Jeongin was safely in the dream world. Obviously, that morning wasn’t any different.

Jeongin opened his eyes when the window was already open and the hairdryer was disturbing everyone’s peace – and for everyone, it's meant Jeongin. Immediately, even still a bit sleepy, he wondered how Minho could be _that_ energetic while last night he was close to death due to his usual migraine: he was such a fool. He got up, but just in order to sit on the soft mattress of his. He needed a few seconds to realise that day had begun.

The bathroom door was opened, revealing Minho, who seemed too awake for someone who had woken up at the best half an hour before. While Jeongin was trying to find the strength to reach the bahtroom, Minho was preparing his rucksack.

“Don’t wanna bother you, but today you woke up pretty late. Isn’t your next lesson in fifteen minutes?” Jeongin winced in response, mentally cursing his friend for having spoken early in the morning. The young man walked towards the bathroom, with footsteps that could only belong to a living dead.

In the bathroom the air was so heavy that even Jeongin noticed that Minho had taken a shower not a long time ago. The younger leaned his hands against the sink, looking at his exhausted face reflected in the mirror. At first, his expression was moribund, cadaveric, as if the night had stolen him all of his lifeblood. Suddenly, his eyes opened up widely; not for his morning status, not for the bags under his eyes and not even for Minho putting on music at, probably, almost nine in the morning.

He had class. In _fifteen_ minutes.

What happens to night owl in such situations is quite unpredictable and wonderful; all the lifeblood they lost sleeping, suddenly, comes back to their body, their dark circles disappear with the tiredness of another new day: they’re late. Therefore, Jeongin found a way to get ready in the shortest time – he ended up matching a flourescent yellow t-shirt with a red puffy jacket and some dark green pants, not to mention those brogues of, at least, an extra size; he bought them when, a few months before, Seungmin and he went to a particular fest. As soon as he noticed that those shoes made him look like a clown, he promised himself not to wear them again, but that morning, gripped by the hurry, he did anyway.

He rushed out the bathroom and noticed that Minho was peacefully having breakfast on his own bed, “Don’t wanna stress you, but your class starts in less than five minutes, am I right?”

Jeongin sighed while he was already checking whether he was forgetting to bring something with him, “Yeah, Min, you’re right.”

The latter giggled instead, looking at the younger from head to toe, “Where are you going dressed like that?”

“It’s not my day, okay?” said he in annoyance, as he was reaching the door to get out and, at least attempt, to arrive on time.

“Neither for your outfit.” the other mumbled, but Jeongin was already outside, “Jeongin! Your keys!” and the absurd happened, because two seconds after the said young man was again in their room picking his keys.

“Just to be clear, it’s your fault.”

“I tried to help you.”

“But you know I’m doubtless forgetful when I have to hurry!”

“So now you’re forgetting that your lesson is starting right now?”

“Why are we having this argument _right now_?”

“You’d better go.”

“Yeah, I know.” and he was out of the room.

For the rest, that day didn’t seem so bad. He arrived when the lesson had already started and, apart from some people, nobody had been disturbed by his late incoming.

The real struggle came when he returned in the afternoon.

Jeongin, maybe someone wouldn’t agree seeing him from the outside, was a kind of organised and, more or less, prepared for any unforseen event person – or that’s what he tried to accomplice everyday, with sometimes good results. He firmly believed that the chaos that is on your mind is directly proportional to the chaos you actually leave in the world. Which is why he tended to show up himself being the most prepared as possible. And he was. He was. Because once you are, then you’ll be fine forever.

Yet, no matter how much Jeongin could be ready to handle any accident, he was all but willing to face that.

Jeongin, every time he got in the room, always pulled off all of his jewels. So, he opened the door and immediately went to the bathroom to wash his hands. Firstly, he took off his rings, then his earrings and his necklace; he just had to remove his loved bracelet.

Well, it wasn’t _just_ a bracelet: it was his lucky charm. Only pulling it off was a torture, he had always been scared to lose it. He treated it as if it was a treasure, although it was merely a plastic thread. So, you can clearly imagine Jeongin’s amazement when he didn’t see the bracelet on his wrist. The black haired young man was alone and he was sure that Minho had messed up something that morning, before he woke up. But Minho wasn’t the main problem for real, they would’ve discussed (again) later, now he had absolutely to find his jewel.

And sadly, Jeongin got aware that it wasn’t in his room soon.

* * *

Changbin had been playing with that bracelet for all the afternoon. Not that Hyunjin was bothered, he was just the one who had found it. They were in a cornfield, not so far from the city. Exploring new and closer than someone would thought places was definitely the best part of Hyunjin’s course of study. In fact, in that period he was preparing a whole photobook that included the beauty of the area. The sun was burning hard – it touched delicately both of their faces, though. The younger closed his eyes, letting himself drown into that wonderful quiet.

Changbin was barely able to keep his eyes open, due to the strong light of the sun. Despite that, he was still trying to seep a bit of light through that bracelet he was holding with his fingertips.

Hyunjin wasn’t fond of jewellery. He feared he would’ve choked with necklaces, earrings reddened and made him feel an irritating tingling and, every time he sweated (it happened often), rings were inconvenient and tight. What’s more, they all hindered his actions whenever he had to take photos. Consequently, Hyunjin had never worn them, even though he found some of them lovely, charming – but here was the thing: they were all excess.

“I wonder who it belongs to.” the young man mormoured, making the jewel fall on his chest. Hyunjin tilted his head towards the friend, squinting; an action that constricted him to cast a shadow on his face resting the side of the hand on his forehead. He actually didn’t think about it, he had found it by accident and thought simply that whoever it belonged to didn’t care much about it. It was just plastic, in the end.

“I don’t know. Maybe that person wanted to get rid of it.”

Changbin frowned, “Leaving it in a bathroom? They could’ve thrown it in a bin.” the other nodded in agreement. Needless to say, Changbin had always an answer to everything. He seemed always knowing what was going to happen; and that it was insight or pure pretending, it didn’t matter.

“People are strange.”

“I believe they lost it.”

“Changbin, it’s been more than three days. Wouldn’t have they claimed it?”

“You’ve got a point.”

They stayed silent for a while, after that. The camera was safe and sound in its case, he got his new bracelet again and he was enojoying the last sunlight of the day. He wished he could’ve lived many days of his in that way. No thoughts, no people, no concerns sorrounded him. The most important thing was surviving until the next second. And then the second after that, and the one after again and many more.. As long as his lungs weren’t too tired of breathing fresh air.

_If only there was a way to stop time, even just for a minute…_

However, they had to come back to the dorm soon. Hyunjin spent all the time on their way followed by the obnoxious belief that coming back home was the last thing he wanted in all of his life.

He turned to see Changbin driving; he was so calm. The sunset was painted of colours such as orange and a pale, pale lilac. Then, there still was the sun which would’ve stopped shining sooner than it thought, perhaps. And it was just so miserable witness that in a few minutes everything would’ve been over.

How can the sun shine knowing it will eventually fall apart? When does its fire stop burning?

“It’s been a nice afternoon.” commented Changbin suddenly, keeping on staring at the street.

“Huh? We should hang out more often.”

“Unfortunately someone has to study.”

Hyunjin rolled his eyes, “You’re talking like I don’t even try.”

“Philosophy is different to photography.”

“Not true, they both start with letter _p_.”

That kind of conversation warmed up Hyunjin’s heart; they were pointless, useless and even dumb sometimes, but they filled up his soul with new and newer emotions. Hyunjin, it was obvious to his friends, didn’t ask for anything else than this thing.

“Binnie?”

“Yeah?”

“Can I walk you to your dorm?”

The elder giggled, “Why?”

“Just wanna take a walk.”

They arrived in front of Changbin and Chan’s door that the sun wasn’t visible any more. Dim bulb made their faces barely discernible, whereas the light coming from Changbin’s place give light to the long hallway Hyunjin found himself at. The road had gone, the walk had gone and now, even his best friend was ready to turn his back. But the young man smiled as if it was nothing, “So, I’ll phone you those days .”

“You can just text me, Jin.”

Hyunjin giggled, “Yeah, whatever.” afterwards, the elder wished him good night and closed the door.

Truthfully, Hyunjin remained in front of that door even a few seconds after Changbin greeted him, stuck as a statue. He looked down at his wrist; the bracelet confining it. He could heard distant footsteps walking through the dorm, but Hyunjin appreciated the fact that nobody, by chance, decided to interfere getting through the same corridor he was at.

That was, until he felt someone staring at him.

Hyunjin immediately looked up, finding out astonished that that someone was nobody but Jeongin. The young man would have lied if he had said that he didn't found the lad even a bit ridicolous; the bright colours Jeongin had decided to wear made him unmistakable, the dark dishelved hair made him seem a dog that had played around for too long and the oversized shoes were just.. funny. His gaze had some sparkles of a breakdown, as if his heart has opened too fast, or closed too abruptly. Hyunjin couldn’t tell what it meant.

Whereupon Hyunjin considered the option of waving his hand, or say an hello, or run through a discussion about a general topic like the weather. In the end, everything was better than Jeongin staring so confused at him. But as soon as he stopped focusing on his own worries, he noticed that Jeongin wasn’t looking at him. No, he was staring at his wrist.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi !!! hope y'all are okay <3 tbh i've been kinda doubtful about posting or not this week, but here we are anyway.. if you want, let me know what you think about this chapter and how's the story going on generally ! you can leave a comment or give me a feedback here: [my curious cat](https://curiouscat.me/writinghwang) or [my twt](https://twitter.com/writinghwang)


	6. Next to his heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lots of things happened.

Seungmin was right.

It hadn’t been a good idea. It had never been one. Seungmin had begged him to let it go, but Jeongin, of course, didn’t listen to him at all. He shouldn’t have considered it as a matter of life or death, he shouldn’t have ever seen it as something more important than a piece of plastic. And the only problem with losing it was, for sure, not knowing where it had been left – it could have polluted so many seas! That was absolutely the only fair thing he could be worried about: pollution. He should’ve started buying only ecological products, too. Jeongin should have definitely ceased to value that blasted bracelet.

If Jeongin had followed Seungmin’s advice, this is what he would’ve certainly done. Instead, Jeongin didn’t deal with it and he couldn’t help driving himself mad for losing that precious object. Yes, because it was precious; if it was threw away carelessly, it could pollute the entire world, but it still wasn’t a good enough reason to consider it useless. And, for God’s sake, he wasn’t the only one to value casual stuff. Many people add value to much worse items.

Still, perhaps it wasn’t completely fair consider his old, dear bracelet this important. His eyes, in the end, wouldn’t have been slightly watery, his fists wouldn’t have closed in a jiffy to block his tears to fall inexorably and quickly down his cheecks… His fingernails were even marking out more or less deep grooves on the palms of his hands. Jeongin couldn’t believe his eyes, he wished he had been able to deny the obviousness the whole situation was showing him. If it was possible, it hurt even more, because he had it coming.

Hyunjin, the younger had to witness it right away, seemed overlaid by a plastic wrap; as if he was prepackaged, a glossy visage which didn’t make room for wrinkles, two hands which were candid, soft like the ones of the people whose only calluses on the tip of their fingers come from holding a pen for too long; the hair combed and fixed with hairspray, like the many dolls he used to play with when he was a kid. But if he tilted his head, Hyunjin didn’t resemble a doll; plastic arms aren’t movable, they don’t choose to carry out an action. So, Hyunjin couldn’t quite be like he looked in his mind. The young man was human and had his bracelet on his wrist.

Jeongin wasn’t able to quantify how long he had been gazing at his wristband without doing anything at all. Was he ensuring that his bling’s loss was not his, but someone’s fault? Was he endeavouring to push aside the fact that Hyunjin, although he hated him, could take the fall? Verily, his was a mere seeking to make his unforseen anger disappear from his uptight fists and to make his tears go back to their birthplace. He had to be calm, impenetrable… Jeongin couldn’t let Hyunjin know something more about him. And he didn’t want to see Hyunjin ever again, either.

“That is, that is mine.” began Jeongin, camouflaging a firm voice and pointing weakly at his dear memory, “I thought I’ve lost it. Instead, here we are: you found it.” he looked away, caressing his forehead, his cheecks and the rest of the face; it was a strange form of consolation, “What did I do? Tell me, do I look like a sideshow? I don’t know, this morning you woke up and thought it would be such an incredible idea to get _that Yang Jeongin guy_ mad? Why didn’t you return it to me?”

“I didn’t know it was yours.” admitted Hyunjin, without flinching.

That was a detail Jeongin didn’t consider before starting his personal claptrap. However, the younger couldn’t curb his resentment any longer – he didn’t process his words before they slipped out of his mouth and neither he bothered thinking whether it was fair or not. Whenever he was upset, angry or furious, it wasn’t himself driving his own emotions and acts, “And don’t you think it might belong to someone else?” complained he, maybe raising is voice a bit too much. His gestures weren’t controlled, his arms and hands pointing at his left, then at his right and, finally, behind him, towards the doors. In that moment, he remembered that they weren’t alone.

Consequently, Jeongin wanted to entertain the idea of giving satisfaction to Seungmin and let it go for real, but Hyunjin leaned up against the white wall and crossed his arms, laughing, “You didn’t complain until this very moment, though.”

And then, all Jeongin’s good intentions went up in flames, “You don’t even see my point!? I’ve just accidentally came across you noticing you are wearing _my_ bracelet, _my_ lucky charm, _my_ stuff and you tell me I haven’t been complaining until now? I mean, really?” the younger paused, in order to get some air and see, as if it was a challenge, if his enemy had any intention to fight back. “What are you going to do now? Taking some stupid photos of my things?” that sentence came out fatigued, not only because he couldn’t actually breathe properly, but also because, in the end, he wanted to cut off that conversation that got him in front of Hyunjin as soon as possible.

“I’m sorry, I don’t have my camera with me at the moment.” said Hyunjin as if Jeongin was an old friend of his and that was one of their daily conversations, while he was looking at his wrist, too. He slipped off the bracelet of him, closing it in a fist, “You’re very lucky, Yang Jeongin, if I had my camera I wouldn’t return your charm to you. Just for today, here’s your beloved bracelet.”

Jeongin’s anger was slowly decreasing; his breaths weren’t so heavy as well, his chest wasn’t rising and lowering. Jeongin couldn’t stand Hyunjin, it was way more obvious now. The elder even sucked at telling jokes. Yet, the latter opened his fist in front of Jeongin, revealing the much coveted bracelet; he took it from his hand, closing it in his own fist, now. Now, now it was safe. “Forget about it, use these shitty jokes with someone else, Hyunjin.”

Immediately, he turned his back and searched for the exit, holding the bracelet next to his heart.

* * *

The camera’s case falling badly on the soft mattres caught Changmin’s attention effortlessly. The young man was leafing through a magazine he had found under his roomate’s bed when he was still outside. Automatically, he shifted his focus at the window, realising it was already evening; evidently, Hyunjin took it easy. The latter, standing in front of his bed in the corner of the room, reminded Changmin of a cat that had just been told off.

Changmiin sighed, putting apart the magazine. Among the two of them, he was the older; in contrast with what people would think, their age gap had never been a problem. Changmin’s dark eyes were still reassuring, his shoulders were pretty broader than Hyunjin’s and everything, everything about his mannerism could induce someone to tell that Changmin was the presence everyone needed in their life. The young man, in all fairness, was clumsy, rather goofy; maybe that’s why he got on so well with Hyunjin – in his own special, personal, quirky way the younger was just like him.

Changmin giggled, “What are you doing like this?” he had to confess it, Hyunjin looked ridicolous in the position he was adopting: stiff, the shoulders that withdrew in a flash, curving as if he was protecting his part of the room; his long, tapering, soft fingertips coming barely in contact with the rough fabric of the denim blue jeans he was wearing.

Hyunjin acted like he had just woken up from an ultra-long trance; his eyes fell down on the floor without the chance of prevent it before it happened – that was the moment in which the aspirant photographer showed his face turning over towards Woojin, who was waiting for an answer.

“I’m just tired.” munched the student, drawing closer to Changmin’s bed. The latter tilted his head, not claiming from Hyunjin an additional explenation.

“At least you have had fun with Changbin, haven’t you?”

Hyunjin exihibited a genuine smile, “Yeah, it was the best part of the day. I had to work on the project, anyway. The photos are good, do you want to see them?”

The elder winced, “I want them to be a surprise. What’s more, that’s what you told me.” Woojin looked carefully at Hyunjin putting away his camera’s case, in order to be able to lie down on the bed. Woojin stood up from the headboard, throwing the magazine on the floor.

“Isn’t it mine?” asked the younger.

“It is! You should stop leaving stuff under your bed.”

Hyunjin aped his roommate’s expression, making such childish noise that made the other laugh, “ _You should stop leaving stuff under your bed._ ” said he then, with a terrible shrill voice.

Hyunjin’s room corner was, however, way more lively, intimate and warm than Changmi’s, it had been clear since the very first moment. The bed ended where also the wall did, creating that safe place called corner, in which you can hide your face if you’re scared; upon the wall, there were many of his dearest memories, trapped in a photo. Instead, to the right of the corner, a quite big window found place, on whose windowsill the college student grew a few succulents plants. On the other hand, Changmin’s part was plain and impersonal.

The latter grabbed his phone placed on the nightstand, “Is this Pinewood Elementary School? Perfect, I’d need a piece of advice, my ten year-old son keeps on throwing a tantrum..”

“Are you serious?” puffed Hyunjin, throwing his pillow towards Changmin.

“My son’s also mistreating me!” screamed Changmin. Pity that his voice was ruffed only by laughter.

After that, silence fell in their room.

Changmin, every now and then, took a look at Hyunjin, just for true curiosity and, of course, boredom. He was kind of empty; not that emptiness that burns down your bones little by little, but that emptiness that leaves you on your bed after a strong, impetuous feeling, that makes trees fall down, just like a gale.

“The bracelet I’d found. It actually belonged to someone.” Hyunjin giggled bitterly, “He’s so ridicolous. But, I mean, so am I.”

“Who are you talking about?”

“Jeongin.” answered he, exhausted.

“And who’s Jeongin?” asked Changmin again, visibly confused.

The other tossed and turned, then he finally reached Changmin’s bed and sat on its edge, “Oh right, you haven’t met him! An old friend of Chan that happened being the owner of the famous bracelet.” he stretched, “And, maybe it isn’t crucial, he hates me.”

“He hates you?”

“Exactly, I don’t know why. And he definitely overreacted when he found out it was me who had took it.”

“Sorry, what’s the matter?”

“I tried to get to know him, but he just rejects me again and again. You know I’m keen on knowing new people and..”

“You can’t get over it.” completed the sentence Woojin, “Hyunjin, I’ll be honest with you; perhaps at the beginning it was solely dislike, but couldn’t it be that you hurt his feelings?”

“Grabbing an old plastic bracelet?”

Changmin shrugged, “People react in ways we don’t imagine when it comes to not abstract things.”

“But it was just childish!”

“It could be.” he started, “Try to think about..”

“No please, let’s end it here. Felix’s the one who studies Psychology.”

“Hyunjin?”

“Huh?”

“You shouldn’t give up.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello again fellas!! this chapter doesn't really satisfies me but wbk that my perfectionist ass is always complaining, i hope you've enjoyed it as always. don't mind talking to me in the comments, on [curious cat](https://curiouscat.me/writinghwang) or on [twitter](https://twitter.com/writinghwang) see you very very soon <33


	7. Pride

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jeongin never compromised.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello !! i'm stealing a bit more of ur time just to say that i do appreciate all the love you've decided to give this fic so far,, like ???? someone's actually reading my staff ??? crazy !  
> thank you so so much 🤍🤍

Cicero said “Dum spiro, spero”: as long as I breathe, I’m hopeful. It must be said, the lawyer had a lofty aspiration, in fact in the collection of letters _Epistulae ad Atticum_ to whom the phrase belongs, Cicero provides a view into his character; a sort of secret diary of yesteryear, addressed to his close friend Ttitus Pomponius Atticus. There was a certain something that was radiant, resilient, something that, by definition, was the exact opposite of Jeongin’s feelings.

The thick latin dictionary was heavier compared to the other days; the sun was so scorching that Jeongin was sure that he would’ve ended up getting burned. Instead Seungmin was there, laying on the shining green grass of the usual park. The friend wasn’t very interested in tutoring him that day; as soon as they had arrived, he was already browsing who knows what on the Internet. The pressure on the keys gave rhythm to Jeongin’s reading and, then, words research. He wondered how Seungmin sparked the idea to keep on studying outside. The younger was definitely more a bookworm who loved libraries whenever he had to concentrate on books for entire hours.

Outside there were the chirp of the birds, the loutish laughter of the people around them. Jeongin wanted silence. He needed silence to cave into the abyss of Latin translations, he needed silence to seal off his mind from the outer space. And obviously, among the chaos it wasn’t possible at all. Bluntly, his mind was all but immersed into Horace’s epistles. Don’t misunderstand him, Horace talking through letters to Julius Florus about the reasons why he decided to abandon poetry to, instead, seek for wisdom was fascinanting, but not exactly what he pleased the most in that hot afternoon.

So it was that, since he was resting his back against the trunk of the weeping willow, he made his head hit on it in brokenness, “Oi, can you help me with this funny guy?” Jeongin hoped his question would’ve detracted Seungmin from his own thoughts. But rather, he kept on frowning at the luminous screen. The younger hated when Seungmin lacked of attention; unfortunately, his joy of living was sometimes both a hindrance and a huge question mark.

“Sorry?” Seungmin blinked his eyes repeatedly, as if he had never drown his attention away. Sun rays decoreted his skin of a slightly golden tone and his hair of a delicate light that made it seem pure silk. He pushed the computer away from his lap, placing it on the ground.

“Horace.” began Jeongin grumbling, “Epistulae.” Meanwhile, the elder was certainly awaiting Jeongin to talk and give his testaments a full meaning, “I’m saying, isn’t it like Julius Florus left Horace on read?”

Seungmin glanced at him in disapproval, “Are you okay?”

If Jeongin hadn’t taken that question as a You-Are-So-Done-With-Latin question, the young man, then, would’ve come clean. But of course, he thought that the only answer he could give was concerning his studies, “I hate Latin, okay? I don’t understand anything and, moreover, the last line. I can’t find carmina anywhere!”

His friend took the dictionary off the younger’s hands and flicked through the thick handbook. He turned thirty, maybe fourty pages, until he slided his finger on what Jeongin assumed was the right one and pointed at a certain point of it, “Found it.” exclaimed Seungmin, with the pitch of someone who’s violently judging the other, “Carmina: poems.”

“Why is it plural?” asked the other in confusion, not without shooking his head, of course.

“You had to look for Carmen, it’s its singular.” he puffed, “You’re supposed to know that.”

“I thought it was..” Jeongin tried to say, stretching himself a little to cover his hesitation, “a feminine noun?”

Jeongin felt like Seungmin was about to insult him because _You should know that when a noun is neutral its plural finishes with A._ Fortunately, he was spared by that scolding. All of a sudden, Seungmin grabbed his own laptop again, continuing browsing on the Internet. But above all, leaving Jeongin hazy. Truthfully, Seungmin seemed an enormous enigma to Jeongin lately. The two of them were used to tell each other everything, sooner or later; yet, now it felt like the other was persisting in suppressing something, his own truth. Whatever it was.

Afterwards – he was slightly staring at the friend of his – Jeongin heard undefined footsteps approaching their quiet study time. It took only four, perhaps five seconds to see Felix wrapping his arm around Seungmin’s shoulders. And it took another four, perhaps five seconds to perceive that also the thief had joined; that also the thief had sat next to him.

Felix was, less or more subtly, caressing his best friend’s neck with his nose. The young man’s features were soft, smooth; so well they cohesisted on his visage, that it could partly look feminine. Felix’s eyes were the kind of eyes that, if you come across them, you can’t keep your gaze off of them. The shape of his eyes was long, which gave him an innatural elegant bearing of his gaze. His irises were difficult to recognize beside the pupils that were as dark brown as the irises. He giggled, without forbidding a little smirk to arise on his naïve face, “What are you googling so hard?”

Seungmin giggled foolishly too at the sight of Felix resting his chin on his shoulder, “Feng Davies.”

If Felix looked unmistakably interdict, instead Hyunjin looked already aware of everything Seungmin was probably about to say. The red haired guy direct his gaze toward what he thought were Seungmin’s eyes – honestly, they were just his jawline, “Who?”

“The Pigeons’ statue woman.” stepped in Hyunjin, gazing amusingly at his fingernails, “Her name was Feng Davies.”

Instantly, Seungmin averted his eyes, quite a lot intrigued, “You know her? It seems like she’s been forgotten by the whole Net, there’s no information about her.”

“Not so much time ago I found some pieces of information at the library. She’s been the first woman to attend college back in 1902, 1903.. something like that?” explained he, taking a look at the statue every now and then, “She was half chinese and half american, a singular character for those times.”

Jeongin couldn’t stand that stupid skit any longer. He closed the dictionary making so much noise that all the attention shifted on him; he immediately wished he had known what to do with all of their eyes looking at him. Jeongin wasn’t sure if he was irritated by Felix who was patently teasing his best friend, or by their casual pointless speeches, or by Hyunjin who seemed _too_ at ease for someone who had been mistreated by Jeongin himself. It was a relief seeing his wrist free from any bracelet, though.

Jeongin couldn’t tell what he was still so feverish for… for the translation that was there, in front of him, unfinished and wrong from head to toe, for the possibility that he could’ve lost his bracelet forever a few days before, or for the other possibility that he could’ve eventually failed and Jeongin just hated failures and, above all, he hated not knowing what was coming next.

He laid on the grass, believing that everyone would’ve forgotten his fuss sooner than he thought.

Hyunjin was still beside him, leaning himself on the grass with a hand. He looked at Jeongin as soon as the youngest made that quick movement with a smirk on his face that had nothing vicious within it. But it goes without saying, that Jeongin didn’t get Hyunjin’s good intentions at all, as always.

“That’s the reason why you came here taking photos?”

Jeongin had the sensation the other imagined that he was compromising; little did he know that no, Jeongin never compromised. The oldest showed a bright smile, “Exactly, it’s part of my project…”

All of a sudden, Jeongin’s face darkened, letting crawling out of his mouth a faintly wailing, “I, I don’t care, okay? I don’t actually give a damn, Hyunjin.”

“It’s always for the bracelet? Get a grip!” as soon as Hyunjin’s words slipped accidently out of his mouth, he found himself covering his lips with the hands, as if it was able to avoid his words, to turn back in time.

The other rolled his eyes, “You’re telling _me_ to get a grip!? You stole my bracelet! You took it without my permission!” Jeongin’s blood, once more, boiled within his body; even his arteries, crazed, didn’t see straight. His anger was a mere excuse to blow off steam, or what he wanted it to be. Hyunjin, in his eyes, was a figure he couldn’t recognise, a shadow that was sneaking into his life without his permission, someone that couldn’t lock up in his weird thought patterns.

“Oh, c’mon! It’s just an old.. thing made of plastic, you want only a pretext to hate me.”

Now, Jeongin got up from his past position, resentful. His bracelet travelling through his arm was a comforting presence. And if before was hard to hold the absurd condition, then it became impossible, “No, you’re irritating and that’s the truth. I’m not a liar!”

When Jeongin was already picking up his stuff to leave and thought Hyunjin wouldn’t have talked, he spoke, “Why do you keep rejecting me? What did hurt you so much? At least give me a reason!”

“Because..” at first, Jeongin was actually intentioned to give everyone an explenation, but once he had to speak up, he noticed his throat was extremely dry.

“Why?” encouraged him Hyunjin.

Jeongin never told something else. He put the backpack on and, finally, with a sigh of relief, left.

Hyunjin wanted to follow him. In fact, when he noticed Jeongin was running off, his instict told him to follow the other. What stopped him was, however, a strong hand wrapping his thin wrist. “Hear me out: don’t follow him.”

Seungmin’s voice.

Hyunjin was still pretty puzzled for everything that had just happened. Yet, Seungmin seemed so calm, as if _that_ was completely normal and ordinary. For some reason, his first thought was going rogue; then, he observed that Seungmin knew Jeongin much better than him or Felix and decided to sit down and appease his instict to yell at Jeongin. Again.

Seungmin turned off the computer and let himself drown into Felix. The latter was leaning his back on the trunk of the tree with the legs spread apart, whereas the other was protected by the first one’s arms and legs. Hyunjin wondered if that position was as comfortable and resseauring as it seemed. “Jeongin’s a hothead, there’s no way.”

“But I.. don’t understand.” sighed he, “He’s a contradiction. First he throws the stone and then pulls back!”

When Seungmin sighed in response, Hyunjin understood there was something regarding Jeongin’s mannerisms only the young man hugged by Felix knew about. It could be silly thing, or the most important thing in the world. He had still clear in his mind the words Woojin told him before: people react in ways we don’t imagine when it comes to abstract things. So, was what powered Jeongin’s madness something which went beyond the simple image of a worn bracelet?

“I don’t know if you noticed that already, but Jeongin is kind of impulsive” pursued Seungmin, “It’s just- Gosh, how can I put this?” he looked around, as if he needed to find some strange form of comfort, “You hit a nerve. And when someone, for whatever reason, brings up a sore subject he totally loses his mind.”

Seungmin paused and stared at the hole Jeongin left only some minutes before, “I’m not asking you to, you know, forgive him but… That’s not an excuse, don’t get me wrong. He’d never been fond of you and this had made everything worse. You’re a nice guy, I know that and, it’s difficult to say as his best friend, he needs to see you’re not the enemy he thinks you are.”

“I should apologise, shouldn’t I?”

“Jeongin should, too. But I’ll be honest, he’s never going to make the first move. He’s too proud.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here we are again, i hope you've liked it! please let me know what you think below or on my other accs (i'm leaving it at the end of this note), everything is appreciated🌻 hopefully, see you next week <33  
> [my curious cat](https://curiouscat.me/writinghwang)  
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	8. Dive in the water

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> His first love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> have you heard skz new album?? it's a whole bop, those guys are SO talented what's wrong with them wtf. btw, thanks fr all the affection you're keeping on giving (almost 500 hits it's just insane i'm sobbing), it motivates me very very much !! enjoy (don't hate me please) 💛💛

Minho was used to migraine.

He had always suffered from it, since he was a kid and learning how to write the letter f was a real struggle. As the time went by, he could say that he had tried pretty much everything: from paracetamol to ibrupofen. Sometimes the pain lasted hours, other times a day but, most of the times, it kept haunting Minho for days and days. He didn’t know why he was so sensitive to headache; even when his parents constricted him get visited by a famous neurologist, the woman shrugged and said that the nature of his migraine was benign and was probably the way his stress liked to flew out. Therefore, Minho shrugged too and persued handling his lifetime friend and enemy.

The light brown haired young man looked for the keys inside of his pocket and unlocked the door. His shared room was dark, so Jeongin was supposedly still wandering around. Minho turned on the lights, threw his backpack on the floor, took skillfully off his shoes using only the feet and touched finally the soft surface of the bed. It had been a long day. He covered his whole face with his pillow: he didn’t want to hear anything else for those hours. The headache was hammering his head, but sadly he couldn’t stop his thoughts from rising. He needed a pill.

The desk was exactly at the door’s left and in one of its three drawers there were exclusively Minho’s medicines. Walking with the same vigour of a cat after a sterilisation, he reached at half-speed the desk and opened without a care the drawer and grabbed the first paracetamol box he found: Ultraterol. It would’ve been fine. Sitting on the chair, he opened the little box and read accurately the instruction sheet; although he knew it almost by heart, it was way better always being aware of what he was supposed to do with those white pills.

The migraine, however, was too terrible even for reading that piece of paper. Just after four lines, he decided that was the time to quit his attempt to get that horrible headache passed. He looked around in a last try to find peace and in that moment he saw it.

Near the front door, between it and the desk: a photo. Even from afar, the place captured was familiar; it got Minho catching the translucent image from the floor. It was so well made that the young man had no difficulty in believing that it was a postcard; but, however, he didn’t bother flipping the photograph to check its true origin.

As Minho had it in his hands, he acknowledged that not only the place was familiar, but also that it was special and remarkable. It was only an alley, yet a place which beared the name of Jisung, his beloved. A sad smile grew on Minho’s face, it wasn’t the right time for sadness. It wasn’t the right time to regret everything he had done in the last years.

Minho had met Jisung that he was little more than an adolescent. Minho had met Jisung when he was only seventeen.

That day, it was cloudy. Minho had just spent tremendous hours inside of his school and his usual headache was gaving him more than some trouble. The school establishment was in the opposite side of the city, consequently Minho couldn’t forget the long evenings walking among the roar of the engines, catching during rush hours the subway and walking on his own again until he was in front of his house door.

Encoutering Jisung was nothing casual.

Minho, holding his backpack on his shoulder and his transverse flute case in his hand, had got out of the tube and solely a few minutes walk separated him from his house. He rang the doorbell and awaited his father to open the door.

His bedroom was facing the alley and, of course, the flat in front of his, too. During his adolescence, the kid loved putting the music stand in front of the window and practing for hours, hours, hours and hours. The harmonious yet scratchy sound of the instrument kept company to Minho more than once.

After having greeted his father, he went upstairs, locked himself in the bedroom on the last floor of a ruined yellow townhouse. Even though it was still February and the weather was all but sunny, Minho wanted to open the window. Once everything was ready, he grabbed the flute from its case. And he waited; every second was marked by the movements of his eyes, begging the window of the townhouse in front of his to open out, too.

Minho foolishly wondered whether people smoked cigarettes on gloomy days, or if they smoked _especially_ when the sky was grey because the greyish smoke would’ve faded in the sky and made lonely people feel just less… lonely. The kid shook his head, that dude couldn’t be sad and alone. It wasn’t a film, even if the whole situation looked like one.

From the day his neighbour opened the window to smoke (probably not to be seen by his family), Minho had an additional reason to stay at the window playing his favourite instrument in the world. He loved, moreover, playing Baioni’s _Liaison d’amour_ so, every time he noticed the other’s presence, he had the foresight to play it. During many evenings he wondered if the boy could hear him, if he got lulled by his music or if he was killing his boredom looking outside just like him.

In the moment he thought that he should’ve concentrated on something else for that evening, he saw the person he was waiting for. He looked slightly younger than him, even if he acted like a grown up, holding the cigarette filter in lips proudly. That day as well, Minho played for him, preteding he wasn’t waiting for the other to play for the umpteenth time the same melody.

Minho considered that one hour of practise would have been enough; he put the music stand away and carefully left the transverse flute in its case. He took a breath and closed the window.

Maybe it wasn’t a film, Minho thought again, but the whole situation looked like one.

His neighbour put out his cigarette and told something Minho couldn’t hear any longer. Fortunately, he perceived something was happening behind his back; there are moments in which we are too scared of diving, but – Minho didn’t know who he was supposed to thank passionately – there are moments in which we dive despite we can’t swim.

Minho, at the time, couldn’t swim, yet he turned and re-opened the window. The kid talked, “Your music’s nice, will you play again tomorrow?”

Soon, Minho found out that his name was Jisung, was two years younger than him and that smoke because he didn’t know any other way to waste his time. There had been just the two of them for a long time, but none of them actually minded it. Staying with Jisung was learning how to swim and water… Oh, the water had never been calmer and more pleasant. Minho wasn’t that kind of person who opened up easily and he didn’t believe he was able either, yet he felt so at ease with Jisung that even the hardest things were nothing more than a length in a pool.

Pity that Jisung became the entire ocean. And if Minho got keen on swimming, drowning wasn’t precisely in his plans. But he still needed to learn how to survive in a so wide and desolate place, so he let the salt water flood him.

Looking back, that’s how things went. Before he could think it was fair, he reasoned he loved having Jisung by his side, he loved being trapped in that ridiculous film scene, he loved being able to suppose what love was, to suppose he could open up his heart and give it to him – with all the veins and arteries. Before he could consider it was fair, years flew by; Minho put away the music stand and Jisung stopped going to the tobacco shop and the older found himself deciding what to do with his life.

Minho was still drowning. The trap he was jammed in left him no choice, the love – the _first_ love – he enjoyed leaving kiss on was what chained him the most, without that he even complained. Looking back, that’s how things went. He couldn’t let Jisung alone. Jisung couldn’t be lonely. What’s more, that’s how Minho, gritting his teeth, was staring sadly at that picture.

Covered by a leather black jacket, he and Jisung decided to have a walk that afternoon. Pulling Jisung’s sleeve, Minho insisted that they should’ve gone through the alley they both used to live in before college. He didn’t know when the migrain kicked in and much less he knew when their date got ruined by silly arguments and shouts. He just knew that, at a certain point, it happened. It was so pointless that Minho didn’t even have the strength of recalling the details, the headache was hitting him enough. He finally flipped the picture, finding on the back an inscription, probably written with a black permanent marker: _I know it was something special to you, I’m sorry._

The handwriting was small, roundish and so… delicate. It was so different from his, which was big and childish – probably, even a eight year old had a better graphy.

Jisung had always been his opposite, in fact understanding why they got on so well was a problem no one had been able to solve yet; consequently, everything in that moment was telling him that, just maybe, Jisung was apologising. That time, a smile whose only nature was happiness grew silently and quickly on his face. He had understood, then not everything was lost. Perhaps his first love was Love.

When he had finally taken a pill for migraine, Jeongin entered in the room. Coherently to how Jeongin was, he stepped in overreacting. Minho had liked Jeongin since he found the younger seeking for the keys in front of their room, he seemed a nice guy right away. But if Minho had to be completely honest, sometimes he struggled being friends with him. The young man was difficult to understand and Minho, he could swear, was trying his best.

“I’m taking a shower and then I think I’ll study, don’t put on your strange music tonight.” announced the younger, taking off his jacket and picking the bathrobe from the wardrobe. Minho didn’t still get why Jeongin insisted for keeping it in there and not in the bathroom: Yang Jeongin’s life, Yang Jeongin’s decision. In the end, he shrugged.

“Had no intention, headache is keeping me company again.” began Minho, “Didn’t you study already all day with Seungmin? You must be tired.” from the dark circles that marked his eyes, Minho could tell that the other was dying from tiredness, but he wouldn’t have ever admit it.

“Kind of. I’ve tried.” sighed he, “Let’s say there’ve been mishaps.”

Meanwhile his roommate was distractly reading his unread texts, Minho was still stuck with that photograph. Those ten words were tormeting him as the monster under the bed would have done; it was like he was laying on the bed and the creature was there, on the floor, among the comfortable doubt of the dark, letting Minho aware of nothing.

He gazed that inscription until Jeongin finished his shower. The latter was wearing, of course, a bathrobe and on his head, a towel worn as a sort of turban. His feet could be glimsped since he had on flip-flops, whereas his mouth was stained with toothpaste and his teeth were holding strongly the toothbrush, “What’s that?” he curiously munched, keeping on brushing his teeth.

“Nothing.” lied the other, “Did you have dinner already?” he asked in a moment of cunning right after, taking the opportunity to hide the picture under the pillow. Jeongin glanced at the elder; Minho suspected that he wasn’t believing him at all. He coughed, forcing Jeongin to answer.

“More or less. I’ve eaten something while I was coming back” admitted he, perhaps only to give in. Then, the young man told him about his day, classes, translation and a random guy he seemed to hate, but Minho wasn’t reall paying attention. His mind was already somewhere else. He was already thinking about running barefoot on the sand, chasing Jisung to say he had read his apologise, that he had always loved him, that everything was okay, that the future didn’t seem so scary and brutal, if they were chasing each other.

“Minho?” Jeongin had just called him off, it meant he had noticed that he wasn’t listening to him whatever he was saying. Minho smirked, it often happened to Jeongin, too; he was just better at lying. He continued, “And for the record, I saw you hid that thing. Is that drug? Gosh Min, you know you’re getting yourself in trouble if they find you, I’m not sure if I am able to cover you..”

That assumption got Minho laughing loudly, he was glad he had Jeongin as his roommate, as his friend, “Calm down, it’s just a picture.”

“A picture?”

“A picture.” confirmed he, with a bit of happiness in his voice.

“And since when do you care about pictures?” Minho didn’t get the reason why he seemed so annoyed saying that phrase.

He whistled, “Since it is the way Jisung is apologising to me.”

“You two have argued?”

The young man instinctively scratched his neck, “Hmm” but he giggled cheerfuly after, “Look where he’d gone!” claimed he, showing the other the photo.

“An alley?” Jeongin frowned, “What’s so special in that?”Jeongin didn’t receive any answer, some things don’t need to be explained. In that exchange of glances, Minho knew his friend had been capable of read his notes written in a so tiny font size.

As Minho was focusing on the floor, he heard Jeongin drawing further and spitting what remained of the toothpaste. When he was ready, still a bit damp, he sat next to Minho, caressing his back, “It’s wonderful, Min!”

Minho was sure. It wasn’t a film, but he could believe it was, for once. For once, he was able to dive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thx for reading 🥺🥺 let's interact on [my curious cat](https://curiouscat.me/writinghwang) or on [twitter](https://twitter.com/writinghwang) !! ily <33


	9. Trouble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He wanted to be forgiven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi!! hope you're all doing fine,, if you want let me know what you think about this! thanks as always fr reading (links after the chapter) <33

Jeongin, during his life, hadn’t gone through many unusual situations. He recalled when he, at the age of thirteen, was on the bus headed towards the school and a middle aged man sat next to him. The mean of transport was almost empty, so the only question Jeongin asked himself was why that elder had to sit with him. He thought that it couldn’t get worse but it did, it really did; the greyish haired man rested his hands on the cane and started asking personal questions to Jeongin – “Do you like Okami, don’t you?”, _of course he did,_ it was his favourite videogame of all times and nobody appreciated it enough in his opinion.

Aside from psysich people, his life was a straight line. Waking up at seven o’clock, staying at school until two p.m and go to sleep not after eleven. Perhaps it was boring, but to Jeongin it was all right. However, attending University stole him part of his normal routine, creating necessarily a new one he had to get adapted to. Without any complaint, he got used to Minho’s routine, too. All the noise Minho made was, by now, only a squalid nuisance he lived with every morning.

He opened his eyes, finding a weird darkness around him. Still under the blanket, he tossed and turned to be sure he wasn’t daydreaming. No, it was nothing similar: Minho was sleeping for real. As soon as he found the strength to get up, he took in his hands the alarm clock that was supposed to wake him up (obviously, he’d never remembered to set it) and got aware of the news that he was ahead of time. Jeongin tsked, it wasn’t a bad feeling.

It had been up to him doing all of those things Minho always did when he was still asleep. He also found out that it was less impossible than expected not waking his roommate up. The latter was sleeping so peacefully, that bothering awakening him was too cruel; Minho deserved a bit of rest, Jeongin knew that.

In a much lighter room he prepared himself for another tiring day which, still, hadn’t begun badly at all. Through the mirror placed in the left door of the wardrobe, he looked at himself and couldn’t help taking a deep brave breath and smiling at his clean and refreshed face. By accident, however, he noticed Minho had glued on the oxides glass the famous photo he talked about last night. Jeongin tilted his head giggling silently, Minho and Jisung had definitely something he was pretty envious of. He closed the closet door and looked amorously, like only a friend can do, at Minho. It was barely eight o’clock and the older of them, that morning, wouldn’t have found the other opening his eyes.

Suddenly, the rub of something on the floor stole his focus.

Jeongin reached the entrance door and kneeled down enough to grab the thing. When he had it in his hands, he looked carefully at it: a photo. Another one. Jisung, apparently, had not intention of giving up – if he only knew Minho had already forgiven him! The young man decided to put the special present on Minho’s side table, so that he had something to warm up his day from the start.

He knew it wasn’t fair, but the curiosity was, once more, eating him alive; who knows which sweet words Jisung used that time. Relationships were an unknown place that fascinated Jeongin, because he’d never reached it. Jeongin smirked at the coincidence, the photograph portrayed the lady Seungmin was talking so vividly about the other day. Only by looking at the picture, Jeongin could feel his back hurting from staying bowed over the text books.

Finding a bit of braveness, he closed his eyes and turned the picture: there it was, the inscription he was low-key waiting for. And he could expect anything from those words, excluding the ones he found in front of his sight – _Jeongin, please, you can’t hate me forever. Forgive me!_

Immediately, he went back to the entrance door and opened it, perhaps wishing to discover if it was Hyunjin for real (it couldn’t be anybody else, he didn’t know many people), or if it was only a bad joke strucked by Seungmin, but he found nobody at the doorstep. Driven by both madness and fear to hurt Minho, he searched for a notebook Seungmin had lended him, to check if that handwriting was way similar to the one in the photo. Clumsy and thoughtless as he was, he made it in time just to discover that no, Seungmin had done nothing that time.

Jeongin felt guilty for Minho out of the blue. Jeongin didn’t deserve any of these apologies he’d received. Deep down, he was a vapid sinner. The hidden joy and astonishment that had liven Jeongin up for a few seconds had become shame, guilt. And he was with a borrowed notebook in front of Minho, holding a picture he should’ve got ridden of before his friend could discover the abominable person he was. Period. Yet, when he thought he was out of the woods, he stumbled on the shoes Minho always left scattered.

The last person Jeongin wanted to face raised his head, resting the elbow on the pillow; still an exhausted and puzzled expression resided on his visage. Jeongin was kneeling down, looking up at Minho as sorry as he could be. But Minho knew nothing yet, “Innie, what are you doing?”

The other sat on his own calves, caressing the thighs as if that gesture could make any better. Minho got worried instantly, Jeongin perceived it, “What’s wrong?”

After that question, Jeongin’s mind got lulled by the thought that, perhaps, it could’ve gone much worse; Minho could’ve found that on his own, they could’ve argued for a misunderstanding – instead, Jeongin was in front of Minho. Shattered, yes, but he still had the chance to fix immediately what was about to be broken.

Jeongin sighed. There was no time for lies.

“Another photo’s arrived” whispered he, “Here it is” Minho’s happy face was so hurtful to see, that Jeongin passed him the picture too quickly for someone who was calm. Just like a kid waits for a detention from the teacher, Jeongin was waiting for Minho to scold him. Minho’s expression changed briefly, his visage darkened. He didn’t say anything. And all of a sudden, Jeongin was begging Minho to talk, to forgive him for having let that fake happiness settle in his body, filling up his veins, giving air to his lungs.

“What does it mean?” asked the older then, “I don’t believe it.” it was too clear, Minho’s gaze was ensuring two, three, four, five, six, even seven times that the hand that had written what he was the most joyful for was the same that was leaving his body empty, draining his veins and drying his lungs. It wasn’t either an _I can’t believe it,_ Minho never left anything to chance; he didn’t believe it, he wasn’t even trying to assume that it could be right, his whole soul was denying to believe that his wounds weren’t healing. Jeongin knew him like the back of his hand, it had to be so.

“That’s having me as surprised as you” commented Jeongin, “If I had had the possibility to choose, this wouldn’t have ever happened.” that answer seemed pretty much up in the air, but it felt like he couldn’t find any good sentence to say.

Minho, now, sat on the mattress with his legs crossed, stuttered some pointless words, while he was holding the image, “Why?” asked he in brokenness. Before Jeongin could do anything, warm, slow tears were running through the other’s cheeks. The eyes were watery, so watery that they ended up seeming coloured, fragile marbles that Jeongin shot too far. Then, he found himself unprepared and wondered if Minho’s wounds were deep, still bleeding profusely; so the only thing he allowed himself to do was holding the back of Minho’s head, so that he could continue sobbing not on his own.

At some point, Minho got away from Jeongin’s t-shirt, wiping the last tears away helped by the palms of his hands. Thereby, Jeongin wanted to say something, but Minho interrupted him right away, “Thank you” he whispered in a puff.

Among the many odd reactions people have, for sure there is saying thank you even when you shouldn’t; Jeongin, in a first moment, was yelled by Minho and, just a few moments later, the said young man was grateful for having a shoulder to cry on. The younger forced a smile, as if he was looking for a cool head to make the other see he got even what he didn’t say. Minho sniffed, giggling, “So, did you get into trouble?”

* * *

The truth was that Jeongin always made bad decision and every time he had to face the consequences, he naturally thought all the better choices he could have taken instead. Maybe that’s why he had decided to listen to Seungmin; maybe, it would’ve saved many future problems. Mentally, he was repeating the speech he would’ve said, focusing in his mind on the conversation he had that morning with Seungmin and Minho. Seungmin, as he had understood the whole situation, pulled him for doing something, giving him a second chance. But what Jeongin felt fair doing was turning towards Minho, gazing him as if he could’ve given the solution. Minho looked away, staring an undefined point in the hallway – Jeongin thought he was looking for something hidden in the white walls or in the chock-full trash bin. The eldest clapped his hands, making the others leap; he wet his lips with the tongue and patted Jeongin shoulder, the one he had been crying on an hour before.

For Jeongin, it was the signal he was waiting for. He tapped his foot, as if in that way the time would’ve gone faster; what he was doing was absolutely mindless and he was just a miserable fool. The door of the cafeteria got opened and the young man turned around to see who they were.

Chan was perfect, by any measure. It could be noticed by his polished clothing; a white simple t-shirt, covered by a long beige jacket and, under that, ripped denim jeans. Jeongin was amused noticing Chan’s style didn’t change, despite those years of distance. He was still the kind of person who cared even about the details, such as a wristwatch the younger didn’t want to know how much it had cost and a silver necklace representing a small crucifix.

It was impossible to deny the quick, curious looks people within the establishment gave him – some things don’t change, and Chan was some of them for sure. His presence made Jeongin feel, somewhat, safe and at ease but, he couldn’t deny that either, at a first glance it was cold, intimidating: that was what he felt too, when he came across him at school at the time. Jeongin wondered how a smiley, radiant person could be, on the surface, frightening, making your whole skin coming out in goosebumps.

“Finally here” began Chan, while he was sitting down in front of the other and placing the fancy jacket on the chair back, “It’s been awhile, hasn’t it?” his attitude, Jeongin found out with pleasure, was still friendly like he recalled it. They comfortably talked about the last period of their lives, as if they had never strayed. The conversation never shifted, they didn’t lose themselves in useless talk; there was no reason for distract themselves from rejoining.

“It was fortunate that we’ve come across each other that day at the party!” his old friend observed, sipping a bit of his cappuccino. His statement reminded Jeongin the reason why, that day, they were sitting at that table, laughing and exchanging bits of stories they had collected. The younger tensed up, supporting his back against the chair better. “Is everything okay?”

No, it wasn’t. But Jeongin smiled, trying not to choke with his own coffee – all at once, it tasted so bitter. His hands shaking slightly got him resting the demitasse on the clean table. He hummed, nodding several times, “Why?”

“Nothing, you seem quite nervous now.” _oh Gosh, was it so evident?_

He took a deep breath, reminding himself calmly that he wasn’t doing anything wrong, that it was the right thing to do, “Oh, really?” said he then, giggling nervously. And, of course, it couldn’t miss: a flaming heat burnt his cheeks subtly.

“Yeah”

Jeongin crossed his legs and cracked his fingers, whereas his throat was slowly drying, leaving him a sense of constant thirst. The solution was a step away from him, it was almost done. There wasn’t time for failure nor cold feet. If he had wavered in that moment, it would have been the end, “I screwed up.”

“You..?” Chan frowned.

“I screwed up, I made a mess. That’s it.” repeated him, gesturing way too much, “I don’t know what’s happened, myself has taken over. Do you remember that bracelet I’d never ever been without?” he waited for Chan to nod, “I’ve freaked out because of that. I feared I’d lost it. It was the last crumble of you know.. my family?” he bit his tongue, he hated the fact that it sounded so insicure, more like a question, “And, in fact, I’d lost it. I was staring at myself in the mirror and, pow, it wasn’t there. I was so sad, I couldn’t get over the fact that it was gone” he giggled, “I was literally punishing myself for that. Then, I found out who had taken it. Do you know who it is?”

The other shook his head, “No idea.”

“Hyunjin, your friend.” stated Jeongin, “We weren’t in good terms at the time. And seeing him with, you know, _my_ bracelet, the only thing I’ve always told myself not to lose, just made me so mad. At a certain point, I’ve crossed the line. There was me, super pissed off and there was him, who was still trying to stretch his hand out. Then, he overreacted, too. It was fair, I would’ve done the same if I were in his shoes. After that, I was hurt; I deserved it, didn’t I?” sighed he, “The thing is, this hurt my friend as well. Hyunjin decided to, how can I put this?, try for the last time to build a bridge between us. In short, Minho thought that this” the young man handed to the other the photo he had found, “was for him, he isn’t doing great with his boyfriend lately. I wish I won’t see him as heartbroken as he was when I told him, it wasn’t just for him. It was me, the recipient.”

Chan smirked, “So, what do you want to do? And you’re gonna do that only for Minho?”

Jeongin puffed, “No, I mean… No. It’s not me going back the same way, questioning myself. Yet, I saw Minho and I did felt the way he wanted to be me, to be the one who’s been said sorry, who’s been looked for. I couldn’t turn my back from him. And I realised that maybe I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusion too.. quickly.” he reasoned; his thoughts were free from their prison and the young man felt a strange relief warming his heart up.

They exchanged some glances, Jeongin felt like Chan wanted to ask something, attack with a last, fatal shot. “Are you gonna say sorry?”

“I _must_ apologies. Gosh, I feel like a fool.” he covered his face with the hands, “I need him to forgive me and I need Minho to feel someway relieved, right?”

Chan shrugged, “Hyunjin needs one step closer, too.”

“Oh, yeah. Of course.” agreed the other, quite uncertain, “Can I, uhm, have his telephone number?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [curious cat](https://curiouscat.me/writinghwang) or on [twitter](https://twitter.com/writinghwang)


	10. Cops and robbers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jeongin felt that coming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm super late buut hey!! i'd like to thank you again (youre gonna hate me someday ik) cause i've noticed that . too many people are kinda interested in this . im never getting over it ngl

Jeongin had a strict schedule in his mind to follow after he had seen Chan, and he couldn’t let himself step out of line. He was filling up his mind with positive thoughts he would’ve told Seungmin for sure – assuming that he would have survived.

One thing had been clear in his mind since he was a kid: when you look persistently for something, there’s a huge probability that you won’t end up finding it. That is why Jeongin spared seeking for something that wasn’t important. It was his firm idea, and he couldn’t believe the big fuss he had made because, for once, he decided to transgress. Not that it had been too bad, perhaps he wouldn’t have been wearing his loved wristband in that moment if he hadn’t done something silly.

In any case, that infernal torture was coming to an end. There was just one little, minuscule step left; soon it would have been a funny story to tell during dinner, it had to be so. He would have reached home, unlocked his phone and went through an embarrassing and ridiculous call but after that he had nothing else to be worried about. Jeongin had no prepared speech to say or something similar, words would have slipped out gently out of his mouth and Hyunjin would have been more than ready to accept his apologies. Or maybe he wouldn’t have said nothing but the other would’ve understood in a jiffy; it was fine either way.

The just registered number had been stared by Jeongin for minutes, unable to move and not to think about his life after that call. Possibly, nothing was about to change and, consequently, not even Minho’s relationship would have been permanently saved, but he had to try his best.

Under the porch, Jeongin felt like life was passing at half speed – and that’s what he needed the most. People were surpassing him as if he was a little buoy in a full of ships sea that didn’t care much about his signals. Light shoulder pushes reminded him he was alive, meanwhile he was trying to stop time a bit more to prevent the causality of any upcoming event. The moon slowly dawned behind the historical buildings of the city centre and the dark, furtively, throttled the daylight. The city resembled a little girl with no fear at all.

Jeongin turned the corner and persuaded his own course. That was when he became aware of another, unlucky law. After the corner, the porches seemed ages and ages away; modern buildings and one under construction made room where Jeongin’s gaze was used to see monuments and people walking by.

If you try to make a plan or foresee every possibility, faith turns all the tables.

Jeongin didn’t see that coming early enough. Jeongin only felt that coming.

A rather strong shoulder push got him looking behind him, still not finding anyone. Immediately after, he saw the figure in front of him, walking quickly, as if he had something important to do. The young man could be anyone in the world. Messy black hair, a short sleeved flowery shirt, a pair of blue jeans and black trainers. There was nothing special in whoever-he-was, yet Jeongin felt like he had to figure out his identity, forgetting instantly the number in his phone, his excuses and all his fantasies projected onto his mind. Then, faith turned all the tables and, perhaps, one hit him hard: around his neck there was a carrying black belt showing the name of some famous camera brand.

He froze. His body was suddenly stuck, whereas his mind was creating too many thoughts, too many desires and a big, enormous wish: _turn around, please. Turn around!_ If Hyunjin was able to read minds, he was, as well, good at hiding it. He turned around; Jeongin didn’t asked himself why, he was just happy the other eased his dreadful work.

Jeongin looked like a middle aged man who found, late at night, a burglar in his garden and Hyunjin was exactly like the naïve burglar who was so clumsy that he’d been spotted. It was like that; like playing cops and robbers – he often lost when he was a child, though. If one ran away, the other chased him. And if one covered his tracks, the other tried to solve the case. Jeongin, without knowing, won that match and he wasn’t even struggling.

He wondered what the middle aged man would have done as soon as he noticed that the man in his garden was a burglar; in all likelihood, the man would have called the law enforcement or he would have, at least, tried to face the other. But again, he wondered who was the most scared: the man or the burglar? So, he quickly imagined the life the burglar had lived before coming across the wealthy old man. Was he stealing for fun? Had it any other chance? And if he did, was it better than that one? And if he didn’t, who was a greyish haired man to judge the life of an unfortunate? Jeongin thought that second chances exist for who’s able to afford them. Then, would the man have given another opportunity to the burglar?

Jeongin did one step closer, not to let Hyunjin change his mind and go away. In a blink a of an eye, in front of him wasn’t standing a dirty burglar, neither a naïve burglar with a tormented life, but there was standing… Hyunjin, the young man he was asking for forgiveness to in that moment, the young man that was always found with a hand to be shaken that, punctually, got slapped.

Hyunjin brought out from his pocket something. He was still searching for it, that Jeongin already knew what he was about to have in his han. He found himself unprepared, when Hyunjin drew extremely closer to him – the younger noticed how much taller the other was and how his gaze, in the end, wasn’t so petty. Instead, Jeongin’s eyes were alarmingly similar to the ones of a fearful kid who’s been stolen his snack by the bossy kid on duty. “For you” confined the phrase Hyunjin.

This time the photograph portrayed a bathroom that was kind of familiar to Jeongin’s eyes. Instinctively, he frowned flipping the image. Before reading, he looked up at Hyunjin who had claps his hands whose arms gently fell on his chest. The elder nodded and Jeongin believed that the right thing was following his advice.

_If you haven’t understood yet, I’m Hyunjin. And I’ve never meant any of the words I’ve said. It’s just.. why do you hate me? Say something, I’m begging you.._

“It was the place where I found your, your bracelet. After Changbin’s party.” explained he. His voice pretended so well a firm and apathetic tone, Jeongin giggled inside at the thought of the other imitating that Felix guy. Still, somehow Jeongin came to the conclusion that his impertinent madness had done that: the older was stretching his hand out for what it was the last time, but it was shivering. “Are you mad?”

After that, he remembered he hadn’t still spoken since they were there. Saying something, however, seemed too much. Maybe, Jeongin would have preferred not facing the consequences. He would’ve preferred listening to a fake firm voice and pretend he hadn’t heard any uncertainty.

“I’m not mad.” refuted he, with the most quiet tone he could come up with. He saw Hyunjin’s body loosening and even his guilt seemed easing. “I’ve received your photos.” in a first moment, he risked to waver; he hoped the other didn’t hear his hesitation, “I’ve read them all. Twice, maybe three times. I’d like saying sorry could fix something, I know it won’t.” he sighed, without the courage of looking up and holding Hyunjin’s gaze, “I thought to call you. But I found you here. And I’ve just felt more and more sorry. I lost the control.”

“ _We_ lost the control.”

He nodded, still not watching Hyunjin. “Until now, I was doing what I was doing for a friend. Then I’ve seen you down this street and all my plans went up in flames. That’s how it works, isn’t it? You believe you’re doing everything fine and, all of a sudden, it’s the purpose that is wrong. I had to apology to you, not to my worries.”

“What do you mean?”

Jeongin laughed slightly, “It’s a long story maybe one day I’ll tell you. It’s just..” he slipped off his bracelet from the thin wrist, “It’s yours now, you can keep it.” he closed the jewel in a fist, putting him on Hyunjin’s palm. Only when his knukcles and the other’s soft skin were touching, Jeongin considered it was the right moment to look into his eyes. He felt his a bit watery, but deep down he knew he didn’t need a bracelet to tell him where he belonged to. Jeongin stood back to wipe his solitary tear away, “We can be friends now, can’t we?”

Hyunjin smiled and Jeongin liked imaging the other taking mentally a photo of that hilarious juncture. “Thank you.”

Inevitable was, then, thinking: how many tears had to fell in order they could meet?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> plsplspls let me know what you think!! 🥰  
> [my curious cat](https://curiouscat.me/writinghwang)


	11. Coward

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seungmin was happy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heyy!! it took long to write and i hope there are no typos, and if there are i'm sorry :// i tried my best! please enjoy this chapter, i'm kinda proud of this <33

Before getting into it, Seungmin pictured the house in his mind as a little, cozy apartment furnished with old pieces of furniture of a dark brown wood, hopefully inherited from his forefathers. The flat – an old a nineteenth-century mansion – made, obviously, Seungmin believe that even Felix’s house pursued its style. They climbed together the spiral staircase; the black iron railing made the raw marble and granite steps more elegant and refined, at odds with the plain white wall. What firstly confounded Seungmin was the visibly modern lock the entrance door had. In front of him, then, there could be anything but what he thought.

Right in front of his eyes, soon materialised a rather wide living room on the right which stayed ahead of the stairs that, Seungmin assumed, took to the bedrooms. On the other side of the house, all he could see were three doors, for the areas of the house left. It remained as classy as the whole building was; the walls carefully whitewashed by a skilled hand, the light brown parquet and all the contemporary pieces of furniture whose plants, placed occasionally next to them, gave to that polished white a last and almost trivial fancy aura.

Seungmin, consequently, couldn’t help raising his eyebrow at that sight. On the other hand, Felix without any caution jumped on the doughy corner of the sofa, on which he didn’t hesitate distending his legs. As he was already sitting comfortably, Seungmin was still standing up close to the door. His backpack on a shoulder, which was getting ruined by the young man’s sweaty hand on it. Felix’s hand patting on the sofa made Seungmin leave his insicure position. For sure, the other hadn’t to repeat the gesture twice; in a jiffy, Seungmin was sitting next to him. He didn’t take much time to be at ease in that position. Felix’s arm wrapping around his shoulders made the work only easier, so letting his head lean against the other’s chest seemed self-explanatory.

Life, like this, wasn’t so bad. Certainly, there wasn’t the warm presence of a fireplace nor an old library full of worn out books and black and white photos; but what he needed wasn’t a mirror reflecting his dreams, it was a place to take refuge in. Even if it was a silent place, such as Felix chest. Hearing his breaths was more than enough. Feeling someone protecting him was more than enough.

Slowly, their legs intertwined. Seungmin was attempting to learn something from his textbook, while Felix was sleeping deeply.

It had been the happiest moment in his life after a while. Not because he could only hatch joy in Felix, but because he found in him someone he could show fully himself to. He didn’t have to fear rejection, so that night, when all of his friends would have left, Seungmin would have came closer to Felix with no hesitation, no lies, he would have told him the truth. Felix, moreover, was giving him any possible signals to let him cave in in his hands. Seungmin had only to yell it back.

The red haired boy groaned, turned from his position, inevitably moving aside his arm from Seungmin’s shoulders. All of a sudden, the roles had changed: Felix was staining with a bit of saliva the other’s t-shirt, whereas Seungmin gave a quick, shy peck on the sleepy guy’s forehead. It didn’t feel real. It was like a feverish dream, a delusional fantasy, a drowsiness reverie. It was this all, but real. Yet Seungmin could see into Felix’s eyes, touch his skin and, perhaps, tasting his lips – then why, why did he think it wasn’t real? What was the boundary line between dream and reality? Did they ever crossed that line?

Seungmin read the last sentence of the page again, too absent-minded by his own thoughts. Here it was the paradox: that book could find him a good job, but where was he supposed to go if he didn’t know how to love? Or to be loved back? Or to ensure his feelings? Or to.. know he wasn’t inventing anything? Nobody had ever told him that.

Before he wanted, Felix’s phone rang. Oh, yeah, that damn alarm clock. The latter opened his eyes, looking around him to understand where and who he was. The phone strucked 6.30 p.m.. They both knew what it meant.

“It’s time to start preparing, isn’t it?” Felix asked with a pretty sleepy voice. It was _a_ vision. The last rays of sun were delicately resting on his skin; it becoming a little gilded as if it was a sunflower shining in front of the sun. For Seungmin, Felix was delicate, untouchable. He wished the palms of his hands had been able to shield him.

“Apparently” his voice was stupidly ringing, whereas his laughter was unstoppable. That little burst of energy tapped onto his backbone; the short circuit of a perfect system. In a moment of thoughtlessness, Seungmin held Felix’s hand, drawing smaller and bigger circles on it as a form of shy and sly caress.

Felix slided out his hand to take his phone, so that he could stop the alarm clock. Seungmin was stuck watching him, while he was absently checking the notifications he had missed when he was asleep. Both of the younger’s hands squeezing his own knees, hoping Felix would have looked up at him. In a matter of not even two minutes, thousands of invisible creatures had built a glass surface between them, that could be the reason why Felix moved his hand away, hurt by that sudden arrival. And Felix was extremely far from him, so far that he could have shouted and the young man wouldn’t have heard a thing.

“C’mon, don’t wanna be late.”

What was that rush? And why did Felix slam the kitchen door behind him?

* * *

One of the purposes he had was, indeed, getting used to Felix’s friends. Actually, he hadn’t been too anxious at meeting them until they rang the doorbell that night. From the outside he could look like an extrovert, that kind of person who’s able to find an adorable nickname to call you after a few minutes of acquaintance, instead he was likely to crawl back into a shell. What was unforseen was sometimes a knife that abusively wanted to open him, the shell. By dint of coming across many dangerous blades, fatally the tough armor he looked after had been damaged. So here it was Seungmin, a crippled shell, left half open (and not by his own will).

As soon as Felix opened the door, Seungmin saw them; he breathed a sigh of relief, noticing he knew the majority of them. The nearest (and one who soon had surpassed the entrance door as if it was his home) was Changbin. He couldn’t deny, seeing all of a sudden Changbin’s face brought to mind old, buried memories. He was standing there, with a grin on his face. Instantly, Seungmin looked at Felix, hoping selfishly he wasn’t looking back at him. But he was. That pointless grin on the faces of them both was even more unpleasant than his voice getting squeaky whenever it came to Felix.

In that moment he decided he had had enough, so he peeked behind Changbin. Luckily, Chan and Changmin promptly moved ahead. The others’ presence was meaningless. It was like this, seizing on every little flicker of reliability. If there was a foothold, then it was Seungmin’s safe haven. A barely known, made of embarrassing giggles and conversations about general topics haven, but still a warm refuge from sharp blades. Feeling the weird sensation of making your own something that doesn’t belong to you, Seungmin let into the house the two young men, as only the best hosts would have done.

The music playing loudly in the living room was shattering his eardrum, he couldn’t recognise any of the songs everyone seemed to love. On the coffee table, there was the speaker and many snacks to eat before the real dinner. A rock love song was too much for his heart and a slice of pizza was too much for his stomach. A rope was squeezing his waist tight, so tight that Seungmin was ready to throw out every single of his, part after part. He wished that in that chaos there had been Jeongin complaining about the food or spacing out, lost in the music. Or, at least, Felix. But Felix wasn’t in front of that table. He was blatantly avoiding the long and boring procedure, leaving the hard and pretentious work of following the etiquette on Seungmin.

“Hey Seungmin, can you tell you us what we’re eating tonight?” Changmin’s voice distracted him. He didn’t mistake not giving to him a first smile-answer.

He could catch the proper answer in a second, yet he seemed forgetting every basic thing about himself and stuff around him, “It’s a surprise.”

The older giggled, “This doesn’t sound like Felix.” Seungmin tilted his head in curiosity, suddenly intrigued. “He isn’t really _that_ kind of lad.”

At that very moment, Felix reappeared, walking downstairs in his usual disregard. The rope, however, tightened even more, when Seungmin saw that Changbin was following Felix. All the details that typify the moment were now object of judgement, fear and passive anger. From the ruffled hair, to the red, pulsing lips and the eyes of the two, that were shamelessly seeking for the other.

“If you say so..” commented him, pretty disinterested in anything that wasn’t solving that hurtful and absurd puzzle. It was too clear what pieces Felix and Changbin were, it grazed the obviousness. The following question was which piece was he?

* * *

Seungmin had, with the food, a strange relationship since he was a kid. Many nightmares grew in his life because of school canteen, and stuck in his mind there was still all the food his grandparents constricted him to eat – “Darling, you look so peaked!”. Consequently, if food wasn’t his worst enemy, it was definitely something that he didn’t love. Furthermore, seeing that plate full of meat and potatoes wasn’t inviting him to threw himself into it. Or, simply, he wasn’t hungry.

His stomach mumbling had become a subtle sound and the voices talking about the latest football match were the least interesting he could imagine. In his mind, only a picture was showed; it was neither from a past memory, a reality he was sure he had lived – it was in the middle, a fantasy that fit perfectly the truth. He couldn’t look away from his dish, even though he was too curious to discover whether his theory was true or not. No, imagination was enough. Because he knew it, otherwise that thought wouldn’t have come out at all. He knew Felix caressed Changbin’s hair; he knew Changbin caressed his beloved’s cheeks… He knew Felix wasn’t able to slide out his hand, if it was Changbin drawing smaller, than bigger circles on his skin. He knew it all, yet he was blind in front of the truth.

“Hmm? Honestly, I don’t think Damaged Panthers has a great coach this year. I mean, they might even win, it’s him that sucks.” Seungmin didn’t know anything about football, but something told him to look up and try to interact in the conversation. Even if it was a last, ridicolous attempt to redeem.

“Bin, Swift Redskins is on another level. For Damaged Panthers it’s just their first year.” Felix’s arms were wrapped around Changbin’s shoulder, and the latter merely counted the other’s fingertips as if he didn’t know they were five. Seungmin knew too well how it felt, he loved staying that close to Felix. The muffled sound of the rest of the world that didn’t matter, as long as his head was placing on his chest and he could look up at him. He was a stranger in his own life, wandering around a comfortable lie, a sweet founder, little by little.

His heart pulsing was a consequence of Felix’s lips swelling; they were as red as his hair, which covered up his forehead, touching slightly his eyes – they were too messy, that night. A bit of lip gloss seemed to be put in advance, making them extremely glossy. But Seungmin knew exactly where it came from, despite he didn’t want to admit it. However, the evidence couldn’t hide irrationality, it didn’t make room for hope, at the expense of the one who lived of it.

“See? They don’t know how to put their lips off of each other!” claimed Chan, who had been talking with literally everyone since the dinner had started. After that statement, Seungmin, even only for curiosity, looked back at the other side of the table, to check whether they were still getting their lips wet. It was crystal clear: there was no space for him. If Felix and Changbin were a puzzle, Seungmin was the manufacturing error that couldn’t fit with any other piece.

He felt that rope squeezing his waist again. He mistakenly thought for a while that his heart wasn’t the unique piece in the world, roaming among many perfect, objectively well producted pieces. He thought that Felix piece, in the end, was relative to his. Yet, he had mistaken. Even though he didn’t want to see, the moment in which the truth slapped his face had to arrive anyway. And he realize that he couldn’t handle it.

A song was still playing in the living room, when Seungmin grabbed his stuff, opened the door and walked past it. He recalled admiring that same stairs a few hours before; now, instead, he was coming down them in a rush. The elegant handrail was irrilevant all of a sudden, the spiral staircase was interfering with his hurry. He was out of the building, without even trying to process what got him there. He rested his back against the same wall he was running off of, he let himself crowl over it until he was sitting on the sidewalk.

The night was the darkest since he had met Felix, the cars were running by as if they had an important place to reach as soon as possible and, from the inside, music was still playing – Seungmin sighed, he knew who was singing loud that song.

_I don’t love you anymore, a pretty line that I adore, five words that I’ve heard before. ‘Cause you keep me on a rope and tied a noose around my throat; you’re gone, then back at my door._

The door slammed behind someone whose identity Seungmin wasn’t feeling like finding out. He felt, however, their eyes all on him, so he reacted looking in their direction. He had to see it coming, the one gazing him could only be Felix. Immediately, he stood up, reaching the same height as him.

_‘Cause if you’re gonna leave, better leave, better do it fast. Can’t live a little longer sitting on your lap. ‘Cause you know what you’re doing when you’re coming back and I don’t wanna have another heart attack._

“Why did you leave?” that question was overly bold, moreover if it was slipping out from Felix mouth. Hurt, more or less slowly, was being replaced by a strong, bottled up anger Seungmin always cared hiding. It hurt just more, breaking his heart little by little; Felix had in his hand a hammer and he was using it to mangle his heart. If Seungmin hadn’t run away, he was sure, Felix wouldn’t have chased him.

“Why did I leave? Are you asking me that for real, Felix?” his voice tone was broken, going up and down in a ridiculous attempt to fake he was calm. Truthfully, his tears elbowed to leak out, he was feeling cold and his lips were trembling as he kept talking. He wanted anything but having that conversation, on a sidewalk, at night, so confused, still too broken to process his thoughts and feelings. He wished so bad Felix had been able to close his eyes and slide out his hand, like he he had done before.

The other nodded, waiting for an explation. Seungmin hesitated, running away was a so catchy choice to take.

_Oh, I can’t be your lover on a leash every other week, when you please.. Oh, I can’t be the kiss that you don’t need, the lie between your teeth, the cut that always bleeds._

“You want to know the reason, don’t you?” he recomposed himself, making his tears flow somewhere else inside his body, “There’s no problem, I’m telling you right now.” if only his voice hadn’t cracked steeply in the end, Seungmin would have been quite satisfied with his answer.

“I gave you this, this! Without even thinking your hands might be dirty” began he, pointing persistently at his chest, probably referring to his heart, “I let everything pass by. I let you get firstly closer, and then further; I let you playing your games, I let you holding me tight whenever you wanted. You, you let me believing in you. You looked at me and assuming your gaze wasn’t sincere was the last of my thoughts.”

Seungmin looked away, rolling his eyes. He awaited a tiny reaction from the other, but Felix stayed incredibly silent. “The thing is.. I gave you everything, I believed you were as well. I let you dribble me, again and again. I don’t know, I don’t want to know at this point what were your thoughts, what crossed your mind. I tried to ignore and keep going, I wanted to believe it was just a moment.”

He didn’t even notice those warm tears lining his face, until Felix wiped them away with his thumbs. This time, it was Seungmin pushing the other’s hands away, “You get it? You do that and then you reject me. It’s pointless, I hate this!” he was about to say more, but sobs stopped him from doing anything. Once more, Felix tried to get closer to him – failing, because Seungmin flinched on time.

_Say you love somebody new and beat my heart to black and blue. […] To say you loved me all along and kissed the bruises ‘til they’re gone. Bittersweet, ‘cause I can’t breathe inside your arms._

“Can’t you even see why? You used me! I was your.. occasional toy, your source of comfort whenever Changbin wasn’t there. But you never needed me as much as I needed you, you’re so stubborn to understand.” he fell, resting his knees on the cement of the sidewalk. He was crying and didn’t bear in mind to stop. That salty water firstly blurred his eyes, then it fell down reaching his still open mouth, wetting his lips and the sidewalk, as if tears were raindrops.

“You’re a coward, Lee Felix. Tell me you don’t feel anything for me! Tell me you’re in love with Changbin! Tell me he’s the one that you want!”

Felix kneeled down, using that moment of weakness to draw closer. “I..” Seungmin tsked, he should have been aware it was the only thing he would have said.

“Back off. Come back to your friends, they’re waiting for you.”

_‘Cause I don’t have another one (heart) for you to stab and I don’t wanna have another heart attack. Oh, I can’t be the kiss that you don’t need, the lie between your teeth, the cut that always bleeds._

Obviously, Felix got back into his home after Seungmin’s words. Seungmin remained in the same position Felix had been left with for a while, the right time to process what had happened. What was he in control of? Why did Felix listened to him solely when he was shuttered? Why wasn’t he able to build up a phrase, in the moment Seungmin needed words more than anything else?

_But even though you’re killing me, I need you like the air I breathe. I, I need you more than me, I need you more than anything. Please, please…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> let's talk on [ curious cat](https://curiouscat.me/writinghwang) <33 i wanna know all your theories/thoughts 👀👀


	12. Shall we go?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jeongin was waiting for Seungmin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> late as always buut okk, enjoy!!<3

Jeongin had seen his best friend being emotionally unstable solely twice in his life.

The first time was when Seungmin was eleven and had found out that he was terribly allergic to pineapple – he kind of _loved_ drinking pineapple juice after a tiring day of school. The second time, the kid was fifteen and saw his perfect skin ruined by little irritating pimples (actually, Jeongin would have liked to tell him that it was all chocolate’s fault, but he didn’t feel like getting the situation much worse).

So, of course, when he hadn’t seen his lifetime friend coming to their infernal date with Latin, his instinct told him to frown and wonder what so bad could have happened to stop Seungmin from meeting him. Jeongin was under the usual weeping willow, leaning his back against the trunk, re-reading one of his latest translations. The clouds covered the blue sky and a slight breeze constricted Jeongin to wear a grey sweater that was way suitable for an autumn day. Those clouds looked like cotton candy which frayed, as if it was an old ruined cloth. May was close, yet the time was blocking him in a winter weather, in which the days go by slowly and Jeongin, consequently, perceived he had everything he desired.

Although he still struggled learning the dead language, he was rather calm those weeks. His life seemed coming back to normal. Minho had forgotten easily the whole picture thing, so easily that he had even detached his indirect sin from the mirror they owned; he lived his days with no guilt and, not less important, his routine was again the same he had gotten adapted to. Well, one thing was different, but he couldn’t really complain about it. After having spent too many weeks detesting Hyunjin, Jeongin was surprised noticing that what he assumed was a plantain was, instead, a bellflower to grow. Soon he had discerned a strong, pure friendship in him, despite all the prejudices he used to have.

There was a time for everything; the rhythm was the right one. They hadn’t gotten close in a glimpse, but they weren’t looking at each other without saying anything either. Jeongin grew in his heart a special regard, a curiosity to get to know more and more about him and the desire that time could stop, even just for a minute, to stretch that damn time, which seemed doing as it pleased. A fresh gust of wind had took into his life a new vision, a new way to gaze what surrounded him. He still felt a bit of emptiness seeing his wrist bare, but he needed to take a quick look at the other to find it.

Between classes, study hours and regenerative showers, there was even space for hanging out – and let’s be honest, Jeongin, like every student, was avoiding study as much as he could. Therefore, his free afternoons or evenings were in the company of Seungmin, Felix and, not to be the third wheel, Hyunjin. It wasn’t bad. Although they were used to be just the two of them, turning tables didn’t seem the huge change it was. For who knows how to deal with distance and lack, experiencing new ways is nothing hard.

As soon as he heard footsteps approaching, Jeongin instinctively thought it was Seungmin. They came closer and closer, but he didn’t hear any dictionary thrown on the grass, nor a backpack put in front of his books. Instead, what he heard were delicate steps, that drew closer until they were exactly next to him. He needed a camera case to be carefully put on the ground and someone sitting with crossed legs beside him to find the courage to look back at them.

“I’ve finished classes and I thought I’d find you here.” it couldn’t be anyone but Hyunjin. If he had learnt to tsk at his voice, gradually he was learning how stand it. Apart from it, he had been able to learn more than one aspect about his friend; he hardly ever went outside without his camera, was definitely a social butterfly – he seemed to know everyone in the college!, and last but not least, with Hyunjin Jeongin felt like he could talk about anything. They weren’t many, however, the tired walks past the dorm hallways after a long evening; that didn’t stop Jeongin from having their funniest, calmest and enlivening talks, though.

“You thought right.” confirmed he, moving a bit to let Hyunjin sit against the weeping willow trunk as well. “I gotta get through this latin thing.” he sighed, he hadn’t even started doing something and was already fed up, “What have you been doing, instead?”

If Jeongin had understood one thing about the other, surely it was that he loved photography more than anything else. It was easy to establish a conversation with Hyunjin, but it was way easier whenever it came to his passion. Deep down, he was envious of that.

After all, it wasn’t so different to how he had always seen himself: a missing part. Jeongin’s whole existence was by halves: a bird without wings, a plant without earth, a human being without a history.. If Jeongin looked behind his back, there was nothing but a white canvas. His life was becoming a painting, year by year. Yet, was there something before him? Ironically, seeing the end of the line was more plausible than seeing its start.

“Lessons excluded? Nothing.” the conversation died right away. Sometimes, it was like this too; Jeongin correcting his own papers, Hyunjin going through the last shots he had taken. Company wasn’t only filling the space between them with words, it could be as well the mere presence of their bodies, standing near and, at the same time, at the right distance.

As soon as Hyunjin finished checking his work, he talked again, catching all Jeongin’s attention, “Do you remember Kang Myungdae?”

The younger frowned in confusion, “Who?”

“The photographer I told you about, we’re seeing his exhibition tomorrow night”

“No wait, stop here: do you believe Seungmin and Felix will be interested in, hm, the _exhibition_?”

This time, it was Hyunjin raising his eyebrow, “Why shouldn’t they? Otherwise, they wouldn’t be coming.”

“Jinnie, let me make this more clear for you: _Seungmin and Felix_?”

“Yeah, what could go wrong?”

The other shook his head, already picturing their friends kissing passionately in front of the exhibition entrance. A long, cold shiver ran through Jeongin’s backbone. Terrifying. “I’ve got some ideas…”

“Do you think Seungmin has a crush on Felix?” asked the elder.

“I do not think, I’m kind of sure about it.” winced he, “Seungmin’s pretty obvious.”

“You’re his best friend” stated then Hyunjin, “To you everything about him is evident.”

Jeongin tore up a piece of paper full of red lines he was correcting and crumpled it, “So, do you think Felix fell in love with him?” he noticed the question sneaked up on the black haired guy, who puffed, pulling his hair back. Jeongin tilted his head, losing for a second his gaze into Hyunjin’s figure.

“Next question?”

That time, Jeongin settled for that answer. In a first moment, he wanted to understand more about what Felix thought, how he acted and how his best friend eventually fell for him. However, discovering it before the person concerned wasn’t rightful. He didn’t really need the explanation he asked for, it was fine.

Nevertheless, he didn’t know his answer was closer than expected.

Jeongin had seen his best friend being emotionally unstable solely twice in his life. The first time was when Seungmin was eleven and had found out that he was terribly allergic to pineapple – he kind of loved drinking pineapple juice after a tiring day of school. The second time, the kid was fifteen and saw his perfect skin ruined by little irritating pimples (actually, Jeongin would have liked to tell him that it was all chocolate’s fault, but he didn’t feel like getting the situation much worse). The young man hoped he wouldn’t have seen a third time tangling Seungmin’s stomach, but here it was. His footsteps were heavy, aggressive but tired. His gaze, concentrated on the grass, concealed an already seen grief.

Seungmin stood there, in front of Jeongin, without the intention of sitting down. The other, noticing that, stood up too, meeting his visage. Seungmin was anomalous, almost misleading in that circumstance. Jeongin remembered how his best friend was, how he started to count time in seconds, in the other’s pace. Jeongin recognised his gaze, it was still stuck in his mind, although he had put it away, in a distant part of his memories.

There were no good words, there was nothing to say. The empty space between them was enough, analyzing widely all the actions they carried out. Nothing mattered more than him in that moment, Jeongin’s fire already ready to burst out. Slowly, it was increasing into his body, burning. He could predict what Seungmin wanted to say.

He left Jeongin’s gaze, focusing on Hyunjin. He kneeled down, perhaps remembering only then that he was there. “I’m sorry I won’t be coming tomorrow.”

* * *

Jeongin yawned. He had to be honest, his expectations on the review were high. The truth was his mind failed him, he was already tasting a lonely exploration of the gallery, losing himself among art critics, emergent artists and intrigued tourists. Jeongin was ready to pretend he was, who knows, a foreigner who accidentally happened to find himself there, in front of a picture that everyone claimed. Where appropriate, Hyunjin would have showed up and they would have talked under a starry sky.

Instead, he had been stuck for almost ten minutes in front of a photograph of some famous italian village, while a guide was explaining his apparent intrinsic message. Around him, there were the most disparate people; elderly on a trip with their parish (reason why there was also a priest in their group), married couples on honeymoon (Jeongin imagined, they commented every picture remembering a particular moment of their wedding), and even whole families on holiday. He pitied the little kid on the stroller, who, unlike him, could decided to sleep. But he definitely couldn’t stand the elder son that had a certain point began to throw a tantrum. It was a nightmare.

He had even forgot the name of the exhibition. As the guide was still talking about the southern Italy’s scenery, Jeongin did a step back and reached Hyunjin, who seemed the only one actually interested; a notebook and a pencil in his hands with the brochure given at the entrance, a backpack on his shoulder and eyes focused on the work of art. He read the title of the flyer miraculously: _Kang Myungdae, a visit through the Beauty of nature._

From the huge boredom, Jeongin wondered why a parish should organize a visit in such exhibition. It had nothing to do with God, faith, goodness or sermons. Then, a good question was why a married couple should decide to _see_ those beautiful places and not reaching them, that could develop a last question: why should families take their children to see a beach and not let them tasting the sand for, maybe, the first time?

Jeongin shook his head, looking at his right – he knew he would have found Hyunjin. The latter was totally immersed in his own world; how much was he learning?, what did capture his eyes among all the pictures?, did he track down some special, personal and intimate particulars that, to his untrained eyes, were invisible? Then, perhaps, beauty was what you can perceive only with prepared eyes and mind.

“Jeongin” whispered he, claiming his attention, “Are you tired? Already?” the question sneaked up on him, who thought Hyunjin was just too focused on his loved photography to care about anything else. That question, it hit different. In his mind, thousands of worries piled up on his head: he couldn’t break his heart that way, yet he was so bad at faking an excited reaction. What if he looked like a baby? What if there wasn’t any difference between him and the child on the stroller?

“Hm? No, no.” said he, staring immediately at the blow-up of something that was, truthfully, small.

“You yawned.” Hyunjin let him notice, in an amused sigh, “You expected something different, didn’t you?” his tone was playful, but Jeongin spotted a bittersweet side of it, as if he was both making fun of him and feeling bad because of it.

The younger forced a smile, “Well...”

“You know, I’ve noticed a thing about this.” usually, Jeongin would have gone mad if someone had interrupted him while he was trying to speak. That time, however, he didn’t mind. He wanted to know what crossed his mind, hoping it was nothing against him. “On the brochure, only the word Beauty has a capital letter.” what was probably wise in Hyunjin’s mind, made no sense in Jeongin’s at all; in fact, he was staring at the other in confusion.

Hyunjin handed him the flyer, “See? It’s nature that should be remarked on here. Yet, they decided to emphasize Beauty.”

“So..?”

“Innie, what you see now is nature, right?” he nodded in agreement, “No, you’re not seeing nature. Well, you see a forest, a beach, a leaf; but it isn’t just a forest, a beach, a leaf. A forest could be the path this person in robes has decided to follow, a beach can be the calm life this couple wants and a leaf could be the safe vehicle these families need. Beauty it’s not only nature itself, it would be so ordinary and plain if there weren’t our eyes, looking for its special traits. Our own filter makes it unforgettable, don’t you think?”

Their group moved onto the next photograph, but Jeongin stayed right there, processing what he had just heard. How could he come up with such a great meaning, when all he could think of was his smashed dream? He hadn’t the right eyes, he thought, but decided not to say that. He had been told during his first Latin class that it is the perfect subject to “open your mind”, create yourself a critical sense and give a look at the world differently. Gibberish. If someone isn’t born with that, there’s no way he will grow it, Jeongin was certain. It didn’t matter what philosophers, authors said; he couldn’t steal their ideas, take them into a new perspective. Hyunjin needed just a coast to do that, whereas he wouldn’t have been able to, even with a bunch of essays or translations. It wasn’t his place, it wasn’t the hallway they walked through laughing and joking, and Jeongin needed so bad something like that.

“Hyunjin, have you ever seen the city from a ferris wheel?”

“Huh?”

“There’s a fair those days nearby.” he stopped to check the other’s expression. He smiled because Hyunjin was the one who wasn’t understanding, “Shall we go?”

The older put his notebook and pencil in the backpack he had with him. Time was rushing again, through all of his veins, warm blood giving him life. It was enough. And it didn’t really matter; who cares about beauty, insight and speculation? Hyunjin was right there, and they were losing time talking about what _could_ happen – but nothing would have ever happened unless they ran away. So, Jeongin took the other’s wrist, heading to the fair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ehy ehy, pls don't let [ curious cat](https://curiouscat.me/writinghwang) die :(( thanks for reading as always!!


	13. Cotton Candy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jeongin had his hands sticky

“Gosh, this cotton candy’s leaving my hands sticky!” Jeongin complained, taking off another fluffy part of the food. He swallowed it, focusing next on his terribly gooey hands.

Instead, Hyunjin kept on biting his own pink heap of sugar, “You should bite. Nothing else.”

The fair was crowded. Families with their children, kids with their friends and young couples. Hyunjin had let Jeongin led him all around the portable amusement park; firstly, to the pirate ship (obviously, on the extreme side of it because _it’s funnier!_ ), to the flying swings and then to many, many roller coasters – damn Jeongin. The coloured lights every fairground attraction had reminded Hyunjin the ones he loved to see during parties, without the almost irritating sensation of the vision getting quickly blurry, the hearing muffled by the loud music, the eyes getting used to that only sparkle of arrogant, bossy light. Backwards, the flashing lights of the fair were kind of agreeable. They left on the ground of an occupied parking a unique shadow, like the one of a journey; so clear, so vivid when you’re travelling, yet so fast to become a dear memory. A journey you must live, as intensently as you can.

Sitting on a bench near the stand where they had bought their cotton candies, he and Jeongin were talking, contemplating all the people passing by. It was relaxing, Hyunjin’s mind was at ease, less concentrated, more careful and amazed at the sight of that little paradise. From his point of view, Jeongin blended in with the hundreds of children running like thrown frisbees in their favourite place. The amused, giggling face was the same. Inevitably, Hyunjin had fun too, following the other one in his almost childish excitement.

“You don’t have a bottle of water to wash my hands, do you?” asked the latter, rubbing them as if it could be of any help.

“I guess I don’t” munched he, still a bit of cotton candy in his mouth, “But I’ve seen a drinking fountain over there” Jeongin nodded, choking down the last piece of the sticky snack. “I’ll wait here” added he, following with his gaze the younger reaching the little fountain. As soon as he finished his, Hyunjin threw his stick away in a bin nearby and headed towards Jeongin.

His friend was still busy washing carefully his hands. So busy that he didn’t even noticed Hyunjin arriving, “Is that working?” demanded he in an amused giggle, seeing that the other was pretty desperate.

“Almost done” said he, rubbing continously his hands under the water, “Ugh, it’s freezing. I can feel my hands go hypothermic.”

Hyunjin, not able to avoid that moment, took his camera from the backpack. The instrument felt so cold, but Hyunjin switched it on, looked into the viewfinder: the water flowed on the younger’s hands that seemed chasing each other, a dark blue sky in the back ground and the cheerful lights, so blurred behind those long, delicate fingertips. Hyunjin pressed the shutter bottoms a few times, then he put around his neck the camera.

“What are you doing?” asked Jeongin in a smirk, as he was moving his hands to dry them as soon as possible. There was no mock in his question, he could perceive that the other was genuinely interested, curious to find out what he had missed. Jeongin was simple. He wasn’t built by default, on a heart too light to carry the weight of someone else; he acted like he had a house of only foundation, awaiting the moment to start the real construction. Was, then, Hyunjin the ivy that settled in an almost abandoned zone?

“I took a photograph.”

“You took a photograph.” repeated he, nodding. He didn’t jarred in a night as dark as that one; completely black were his t-shirt and his trousers, a headband kept his hair in order and a thin chained necklace, with a little, roundish pendant. “Can I see it?”

Hyunjin shook his head, surpassing him, “Hey! Why not?”

“We have to get the ticket for the ferris wheel, don’t you remember?”

Jeongin ran after him, until he reached the other guy. The latter didn’t displease that sensation, having someone beside him. Repeatedly and often, people were around him, near him, but never too close to see his face, notice his lips trembling at an inappropriate question, his ear being scratching due to awkwardness. Actually, there wasn’t space for predicament. It was too fine to be real, sometimes. He could just get lulled by that beautiful feeling.

A skinny, quite gaunt man in his thirties was sitting behind a cashier, munching a chewing gum. His chin resting on the palm of his hand, watching bored another ride of the carousel. Hyunjin coughed, to get his attention.

“Hi, you’re together?” munched he, totally disinterested in a possible answer.

“Yes.”

The man looked for something under the table, “It’s 12,000₩.”

Before Hyunjin could even think of grabbing his wallet, Jeongin stepped in, “I’m paying.”

“Out of question, _I’m_ paying.” refuted Hyunjin. Jeongin was like this: terribly proud, terribly stubborn. In certain situations, talking to a wall would have been more stimulating. They exchanged a glance, in order to avoid a plausible argument in front of an even more probable annoyed employee. “Jeongin, put away your money.”

“Can you hurry up, mates? This ride’s almost over and there are people behind you.” no needed to be said, with a mocking smile, Jeongin handed two 10000₩ banknotes to the irritated man. The latter put them inside the cash register, “And here’s the change, have fun.”

The cabin was squared, with two seats facing each other. In the middle, a pole assured the support to the rest of the ferris wheel.They both sat down; a little tremor announced the beginning turn, making Hyunjin rest a hand on his own sit. Nobody spoke for a little, caught up gazing their spaceship drawing near the night sky. All of a sudden, the city lights were tiny gold dots drawn on a black cardboard messily. Every now and then, Hyunjin looked back at Jeongin, who was excitingly discovering what there was around him.

It was his first time.

The realisation hit him out of the blue. Before, he had never let someone distract him from his main focus, his work, his capacity of penetrate in the world that most of all could make him feel at ease, in which there wasn’t a right or wrong to determinate his value, in which he was there, and if he wasn’t it didn’t make the difference, after all. He let Jeongin seal off his wrist, leading him somewhere else. If that world was a bubble that risked to burst with only a delicate touch, thinking that the other had been able to cross that fragile line felt surreal. How could a hand not shutter it? In that moment, Jeongin looked at Hyunjin as well, unaware of his thoughts.

“You’ve been pretty silent, did I do something wrong?” the elder shook his head, looking at the scenery once more.

“Not at all.”

Jeongin frowned, “I don’t believe you.”

“Why shouldn’t you?”

“I took you away from your exhibition. Maybe you didn’t even want to be here.” explained he, leaning his elbows on the thighs covered by black pants, “It was childish, wasn’t it?”

Hyunjin shrugged, not to make the other feel relieved, rather because it was the truth. It wasn’t essential, he studied that stuff every single day. Jeongin, however, sounded very sorry. As if he was taking the blame of a crime that didn’t exist. “I don’t think so. I like it. It’s.. so calm.”

“The rest of the world seem out of touch. It’s comforting.”

He tilted his head, “Why do you say so?”

Jeongin sighed, turning back to his previous position. The silence grew between them, Hyunjin even wondered if he had accindentally asked too much. Yet again, the younger felt at ease. Or maybe it was his sensation, because even that silence wasn’t embarrassing, misplaced. It was part of a perfect system, a gear that, in order to work, had to go through an absence of words. Consequently, Hyunjin wondered where did all the words go after someone had said them. They get stuck in the other’s heart permanently or they wander around forever?

“I don’t have to think about anything.” admitted he, giggling and looking down at his feet, “Probably I need some rest before the exam.”

“Is Latin so difficult? You don’t look like someone who loves it.”

“In fact, it’s hard. I study everything by heart and next day I don’t remember a single thing. So I study again, hopefully I’ll learn something in the end. I analyse every sentence, try to translate a death language into a modern one. It’s difficult, sometimes I’d want to quit, I’ll be honest. But then, your translation makes sense and it looks a bit better. Tolerable, at least.”

“You’ve never told me why you decided to persue latin at college, though.”

Suddenly, Jeongin was looking for something. His gaze was just like his own words disappearing in the wide world after he had said a sentence, so Jeongin’s eyes were seeking for something. Maybe, the answer he was about to tell. Maybe, it wasn’t a simple answer. But, as well, it could be a mere _I wanted to_. Despite his attitude was curious, cheerful, Jeongin was so, so silent about everything that concerned him.

“Latin has a history. A long history. Every word, every verb has a provenience. Every structure comes from an older one. Even Latin itself changed with time, just like any other language.” he snuffled, even if he hadn’t sneezed, “It’s what I don’t have, you know? Something behind me. I grew up with my mum and my aunt, and I know nothing about the rest of my life. Who knows, my great-grandfather could be french. I can’t know that. I don’t even know my father! It’s just my mum and me. Everything left is a mystery.” He stopped for a while, “That day, I gave you my bracelet.”

Instinctively, Hyunjin looked down at his wrist. He wore it every day. “You still wear it. I am sorry, I must have looked like a fool That, that was the only link between me and my family. The option of losing it meant, well, losing that part of me. I was given this blue bracelet when I was nine by my aunt, she later told me it used to belong to her mother. I don’t know,” he mumbled, with an unexpected serene tone, “It was the connection I needed, I felt closer to those strangers.”

Hyunjin wanted to say something. Yet, his mouth, his throat were dry. In that moment, on a ferris wheel, sorrounded by a surprisingly comforting sky, distant from people, college, life decisions, the aspiring photographer found out that there was nothing to say. Jeongin got Hyunjin quiet. No one had ever got him quiet like him. He was one of few words if he wanted to, but.. around people? He had never been the shy guy in a circle of friends. He kept quiet. It was almost rude breaking in the other’s bubble, risking to tear it apart.

“And you? How did you get into photography?”

The cabin was getting closer to the ramp. The air wasn’t so fresh, the magical connection that had them dazzled by their own eyes was turning back to his initial form, four dark irises. If Hyunjin focused, he could hear the continous munching of the employee waiting for the next couple to get off. When the cabin stopped, Jeongin was still sitting down, his hands on his lap, awaiting the moment to leave the carousel. Anyone would have thought he was so concentrated on catching the right moment to open the little door, no to make someone else waiting. Instead, only Hyunjin in that fragment of time knew that his cheeks, just like his organs, were burning of an innocent fire, questioning his actions, fearing a so wide opening of an old wound.

“We gotta go.” reminded Hyunjin, sneaking just a bit up on Jeongin, who looked up at him. The elder stood up, but before he could do anything else, he decided, perhaps for madness, to hold the other’s hands, finding it even still slightly sticky. He should have probably thanked him for telling him something like that. Still, there was again nothing to say. He got off, leaving Jeongin behind him.

Before he could reach him, Hyunjin had stared at his bracelt for a while. It seemed like it was chaining him, bringing him somewhere too far from his life, yanking him to keep walking.

* * *

“You know that rolling chairs don’t work this way, right?” Jeongin had always had a lot of respect towards Minho, yet, sometimes, he got into the room, grabbed a chair, put it in front of their wardrobe and mounted up, attempting to take who knows what. The unexpacted action startled the younger, whose bed found place next to the closet. Despite that privileged position, Jeongin could only look at Minho’s side profile and at the laminated vertical panel. 

“It might be, but it’s the only thing we can use in this room.” answered the other fatigued, still way shaky on the chair. Truthfully, Jeongin didn’t understand why Minho wanted to take down his suitcase, he was staying out of his way. His phone beepped, sign that he had received a new notification. Still waiting for Minho to brag his stuff, Jeongin unlocked his phone. It was Seungmin asking him how the day before had gone without him.

He sprawled on the bed, letting the phone falling down on his chest, somehow his heart was palpitating and he knew the reason why. He had let off the steam, and even though it had felt like he could have died at any moment, after a day it was fine already. Hyunjin, Hyunjin, Hyunjin.. a name that seemed so tricky had become in a blink of an eye comforting. Friends’ warmth was really what he was out there for.

“Oi you slacker, help me with this” at Minho’s request, Jeongin jumped out of the bed. The elder was holding with all his strenght a blue trolley of fabric. As soon as he had it in his hands, the slacker thought to let it fall on the floor, “Be careful!”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m not gonna break it” the other reassured him, keeping on holding it, “What’s so special in it, though?”

“C’mon, put it there” instructed he, pointing their desk, “There’s nothing, just.. Pay attention.”

“Got it” soon, he came back to his loved bed, while Minho sat on the rolling chair. They minded their own stuff; Jeongin typed on the screen of his phone as if that night was a matter of life, and Minho checked some papers that he had apparently to fill out.

“You know what?” the younger broke the silence, a bit dreamy, “I was wrong.” the other lifted his head, raising an eyebrow, “I was wrong about Hyunjin. Yesterday’s been amazing, I was totally at ease, we had so much fun. It was like we’ve been friends for a long time. I really liked that.”

Minho, meanwhile, was folding a corner of his paper, “That’s good. Making new friends, I guess. Hm?”

“Oh, erm, of course.” agreed Jeongin, nodding. The atmosphere had become tense all at once. Minho wasn’t Minho, his friend and roomate anymore, rather he was the judgmental gaze of the young man who found his heart shattered by that childish friend of his and, regretfully, his first, intense love. By now, Minho was the person who looked at himself in the mirror, finding at its corner those sweet words he had thought were for him. In his heart, Jeongin wished he had been able to recognise his sins and to tell Minho he didn’t really deserved that words, that if there had been a way to invert what had happened, he would have picked that for sure.

Yet, he let the whole thing slide on him, as if he was taking a shower.

“He held my hand. Hyunjin.” he stopped, processing just in that moment for the first time the gesture, “I’d told him about, well, the family thing. I don’t know why I felt comfortable enough, it was fine. And in the end, he held it.” Jeongin puffed, “Is that important?”

His roommate shrugged, pouting, “It’s important only if you want it to be.”

Jeongin immediately frowned, “What do you mean?”

Minho seemed like thinking, analyzing his thoughts for a few seconds. Was that a so difficult question? “Listen, do you want to hear something?” the younger nodded, watching Minho opening his suitcase. He anticipated anything, but the sight of a case for, what he thought, an instrument. He had never seen before his friend playing a musical instrument, Minho had never told him either.

Cautiously, Minho grabbed the transverse flute, sitting again on the chair, this time sitting up straight. As soon as he started playing it, it was evident that Minho wasn’t only passionate, but talented as well. His fingertips moved from a flicker to another, creating a beautiful melody he knew by heart. The hours spent practising, learning and, certainly, loving that instrument were all there. Probably, he hadn’t touched it for months, yet he felt like he was playing it every day. A question arose in Jeongin’s mind, why was Minho hiding his passion? It couldn’t be hurtful…

He smiled bitterly, “I’ve been playing transverse flute since I was five. I wasn’t into sports already, so my dad let me find out this world. Honestly, I don’t know how many hours I’ve spent alone or in group practising. Pft, I still remember my hands hurting and the shortness of breath. I went to school every day, then I had flute class and then I came back home, and trained again. Time passed and I didn’t mind it at all. I was in front of my window, playing. I loved it.” he sighed, “One day I met Jisung. We were neighbours, had the window in front of each other. That’s how it went: I fell in love. We were both attending school, but for me the time of decision had come earlier.”

“And?”

“I don’t know what crossed my mind. I loved Jisung, perhaps I still love him. I feared to lose him, making another choice. I’d got accepted. I had auditioned for this, hm, conservatory; getting accepted meant having a guaranteed spot in an orchestra.” Minho stopped Jeongin from asking any question, “Why am I here? I’d chosen Jisung, in the end. I decided to attend here college and study something that, hopefully, would have kept my mind busy.” he scratched his neck, “At first, I was happy. I tried to show it as much as I could not to make Jisung feel guilty. The thing is… I’m not happy any more.”

“That’s.. Minho..”

“I don’t know where we’re leading, it all seems stuck at the last day of school. Even kisses are not that sweet by now, and loving him is habitual, I somehow miss what we had before. See, I’ve let my biggest passion go, for what? Hanging out in the weekends? Arguing every two days with someone who avoids everything? I feel like I’ve left myself behind my life” sobbed he, trying to repress again tears. Jeongin pictured in his mind the image of Minho crying in front of him, just some weeks before. He didn’t want his friends to cry, why were they all crying? Why did it seem his fault?

The elder grabbed the papers he was completing before, handing them to Jeongin: Sacred Heart Academy. “I’ve already auditioned. I’ve been sent home the registration. If everything goes well, next week I’m moving there, otherwise I’ll start by the end of the month.”

“And, and college? Exams? Jisung? Does he know anything?” stuttered Jeongin, taken aback.

“I’ve filled out the forms, and a few days ago I sent it. Jisung..”

“Jisung?”

“I’m breaking up with him.” that statement was supposed to be an exclamation, but it felt way sensed. “He doesn’t know anything yet.”

“Minho?” the latter looked up at him, Jeongin hoped making a decision wasn’t so difficult in that moment. Minho was one of his best friends, letting him go was hard and hearing him so broken almost shattered his heart. He figured a room without the other, instantly it was so empty. “Won’t you need to start packing your stuff?” he saw him nodding, “C’mon, I’ll help you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> istg i AM back !! idk i encountered a bit of difficulty in writing this long ass chapter but i'm way satisfied ?? i'd love to know your opinions, it'd be so nice to have some feedback<33 i'm leaving you as always my cc profile: [ curious cat](https://curiouscat.me/writinghwang) thankkkk you again for reading and hope to see you very v soon ^ ___^


	14. Great Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jisung loved writing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as i'm writing this note, this story has reached 1000 hits and ?? that's a whole lot ?? it's not really about numbers, but seeing that related to my story just give me so so much happiness. i'm so sorry this comes late, i'll try my best to keep on writing and i hope you're loving this story as much as i am writing it. enjoy!! <33

Many people have been asking their whole life whether there was a way to turn back in time; not only to change past events, but to relive childhood, adolescence from a new and wiser point of view. To meet again for the first time your best friend, your true love or a person you have lost throughout your life – and always too, too soon. To open new possibilities, change the past just by looking at it with a different mind. Many theories have been made, nothing seemed working, though. Leaving humans, poor mortal creatures, stuck in their time, rushing with the speed of life.

Then, it could seem pretentious saying that Han Jisung had discovered at the young age of eight a method to mislead time. It could be pretentious not because he had discovered it himself, rather because it was already famous and spread in the world. It was simple, even natural; it just needed a pen, a notebook and the work was done.

Jisung had written his first diary during the second year of elementary school and, by then, he had never left those blank pages to fill. After twenty years of life and twelve of writing, the young man could boast three entire shelves of diaries in his bedroom. His lifetime wall, someone could have said. Those shelves were his road to another time, to another himself. Often, whenever he had time, Jisung liked to casually pick one and reading, or flicking through it. There, there was written everything. Nothing was left to chance; if Jisung had been asked who or _what_ he was, he would have easily showed the lifetime wall.

Yet, there was a diary that hadn’t been put in a shelf, next to the others, but that still resided on his nightstand, under his current diary, as if he was still writing that old and finished journal. It was a spiral notebook whose cover was plain white and its pages were, by now, a little curved due to the pressure of the pen onto them and the many photos, train tickets and absurd stuff taped. He looked after it, perhaps because his biggest wish was to live those pages all over again.

He hadn’t to. Or, at least, he didn’t use to.

  1. Diary of 2015. Back then, there were three main things in his life: journaling, of course, cigarettes and friends. That was all. Tasting the cigarette filter was way similar to the never-experienced lips of someone else, writing down life was way similar to experiencing life itself. Those years, they were the rehearsal of adulthood, and that was the tracing paper with whom he was trying to trace a portrait of himself.



All of a sudden, flicking through the pages, evident was noticing the change of the subjects. Before; school, cigarettes, friends, school, journaling, friends and cigarettes again. And then, it was just Minho. And it wasn’t 2015 any more, it was the year he fell in love. Love, love, love.. He had only heard of it in songs, films, books; feeling it running through his veins was something else – the desire of getting to know him, his heart jumping and rolling on the weak surface of his chest every time he knew he would have met him, his fingertips tapping on the sill of the window that faced Minho’s because.. Because it could look delusional, book-likely and even stupid, but it was like he couldn’t really put the pieces in place if he wasn’t there. Thinking straightforward was too hard, then.

It was funny seeing how what before was a sweet way to get through memories (his favourite memories truthfully), at a moment’s notice, had become in such a short time an horrible torture. There was him falling in love, loving endlessly and unconditionally the other one, there was fear, happiness and even sadness in those words. There had never been regret, yet he wondered what was the point if it all had run away from his hands, just like water from a water can.

The first time he had seen him, Minho looked like he was lost in his own world. Resting both of his elbows on the windowsill, a boring cigarette trapped in his teeth, Jisung had noticed him playing the flute. The last time he had seen him, Minho wanted to come back to his own world. The two of them in Jisung’s messy room even though it was usually empty, the shelves seemed divide them strongly; Jisung resting the palm of his hands on the sill again, Minho talking shattered in front of him.

In a moment of egoism, he wanted not to let Minho go. He couldn’t let him go. Then, he wondered where he would be without writing; it wasn’t his main goal, but he knew so well that instrument meant his whole life to Minho.

He had tried for years not to hurt him, it was the last thing he would have done. He ensured the other was satisfied, that they both were happy. After five years, Jisung had put away the thought of Minho being tangled in a life that was different to what he had expected. It was like that, wasn’t it? He had thrown away his cigarettes, Minho had forgotten the flute.

It wasn’t how he thought.

Minho was breaking his heart, but for some reason it felt fine. Of course, a skyscraper was falling down in his city. Stupidly, in that controversial situation, it was okay. It kind of seemed correct. He could have kneeled down at any moment, when he realised that when you love someone, it’s impossible not to hurt them even a little bit. He had lost that match. Jisung had broken Minho’s heart, so the latter had all the right to do the same: it was drawing. Fair play.

What he didn’t put up with when Minho had told him goodbye was the accepting-for-real-the-goodbye process. Because he could survive without him, pity that he had been stuck in their life for maybe too long. He acknowledged that three days later. Sunday. Jisung knew Sunday was the worst day for the other, merely because it was the last day of the week and all the stress seem climbing to Minho’s head even worse than the other days. So, every Sunday he called or asked directly Minho how his migraine was going and if he needed anything – _Remember, don’t overwork!_

On that Sunday morning while his roommate, Seugmin, was clearly avoiding him, he uderstood that there was no turning back. Actually, Seungmin would have stopped ignoring his existence after four, maybe five days. Instead Minho no, he wouldn’t have had second thoughts. Just like he had anticipated, Seungmin started talking again on Wednesday, but he asked him questions again about Minho only on Saturday, to be sure he wouldn’t have reacted badly. In fact, he didn’t. But he ignored his question with an extremely false “I don’t know”, that sometimes could become an “Ask Jeongin”. Damn, then Seungmin knew that Jisung wouldn’t have even tried to talk to him.

Defeated, he decided to do the only thing that was left of his old routine. Diaries. Yes, it was pointless. Yes, Seungmin would have complained about all the useless stuff he always brought to their room. But what could he do?

On Monday, he made the effort of going back to his home. His family and he had never moved from that place. It was odd hoping for the first time in twenty years that he didn’t live there. Every cobble stone of the alley was a tremendous reminder of Minho. If he had closed his eyes and taken a deep breath, he would have pictured those young Jisung and Minho run around a silent narrow lane, as if they were the only two people bringing life and joy to the little street – and they weren’t lying believing that.

Even the yellow wall of Minho townhouse had a story behind it. They were laughing, perhaps Jisung was telling something about his day, or complaining about a test he had taken and didn’t go well. Despite that, Minho thought it was the right time to take him arm in arm, caressing the other’s arm with his cheek, still giggling. There was nothing between them. Well, something had been growing in their earth, but it was too little to be recognised. To be recognised by Jisung. Minho seemed to know everything from the start, Jisung reasoned.

Minho pulled him, running faster and toward his house. Before he could understand something about those actions, his back touched more or less gently the wall. At the most, four centimetres separating them. Four centimetres away, Jisung could fully see Minho; the little teeth, the dark eyes that he had got keen on right away. Jisung was lost looking, whereas Minho was already caressing his cheeks. The other was ready to giggle at the contact, but Minho got ahead, pecking his lips. It had been so fast, that when Jisung got aware of what had happened, Minho was going upstairs skipping a step.

However, although he thought that, going there, he would have met who had become his ex, Jisung found no one that Monday. He opened the door and saw his mum watching a variety show. He was surprised noticing that everything about the house remained the same. The woman turned off the television, greeting his son. Usual questions: how are you?, what brings you here?, have you eaten?. Plus one, “Why don’t we have a cup of tea?” Jisung didn’t know whether his mother suspected anything, but if she did, then she knew that some tea was always the solution. And it didn’t matter if it was May and outside was hot.

“Green tea or red tea today?” asked she, opening the cupboard. She was going to grab the cups, the tea bags were already on the table. The woman tip-toed, trying to reach the last shelf of the piece of furniture.

Jisung, who was sitting at the table, stood up reaching his mum. Behind her, he placed a hand on her shoulder, grabbing effortlessly the cups, “I’ve grown taller since I was eleven, have I told you?” said he, sarcastically.

In the end, they got their tea done and found themselves sipping it in front of each other. It had been so much time since the last time they had shared a cup of tea, that Jisung didn’t even remember when it was. Incredible how the world had been flipping lately. Immediately, his mother began a conversation about a neigbour of theirs, a woman named Hajoon, who recently had done this _fantastic travel to India, I wish I could go too!_

“Now that I think of it, she’s really the kind of person who would visit India for three months” she smirked, “I mean, it would be nice to visit and all, but I don’t know if I could plan a holiday for more than a week. And I’m more likely to have a nice vacation at the seaside, hm?”

“Definitely. We went to the seaside every summer.”

The woman smiled, “Those were beautiful years. Now, your sister and you had grown up and have different lives. Maybe you’d love to go visit India just like Hajoon, wouldn’t you? Is Minho that type of person? Probably he’s more organised than you.”

Realisation hit him hard: his mum still knew nothing, “Yeah, speaking of him…”

“How is he doing, by the way? I haven’t seen him for ages! I think he could have even forgot something at home…” not even the time to try to build up a sentence, that the woman had got out of the kitchen, seeking for something who knows where. However, she came back soon, disappointed, “I can’t find it. It was on the windowsill, so I grabbed it to give it to him next time he would have come.”

“Well, what is it?”

“I don’t know precisely, there were notes and stuff. You know I’m not keen on music, much less _classical_ music.”

“Uh, I see.” answered he confused, “Listen, I have to tell you something urgent.”

“Go on, I have ears to listen.”

“Minho’s not coming back.” as soon as he pronounced those first words, the only thing he could think about was that he was actually saying it, it felt crazy, “We broke up. He’s going to study to another city and we’ve decided it was better like that.” _Lies, lies, lies._

His mum collected Jisung’s hands in hers, “It’s gonna be okay. I’m not gonna hide that I’m sorry, but you have to decide for your own life, and if you guys thought it was the better choice, then it was.”

“I came here to grab some stuff, I think I’ll go to my room now.” he stopped for a second, “Thanks, mum.”

He picked up in solely one plastic bag all of his journals. It was pretty heavy, but still menageable. He spent all the way to the dorm thinking about the previous conversation with his mother. Minho not only had forgotten something, as if he wanted to say that, okay, he wasn’t here but that he had no right to forget him as well. He thought again. The last time Jisung brought him to his house was when they broke up, but he had nothing with him. Probably, his mother misunderstood.

As soon as he was approaching to his destination, his fingertips were slowly getting red due to the weight of the bag and a so thin handle. While he was entering in the dorm, he heard a thud he didn’t even cared about. So, he opened the door, ready to get in.

“Hm, hey you? I think you forgot something.” a voice behind him got Jisung turning around, looking down at his plastic bag and noticing that it had a wide hole. The young man in front of him, consequently, was holding a ruined, little notebook which had on its cover a dinosaur. He recognised it right away: his first diary.

Jisung drew closer to the stranger, looking at him better. Dark, midlength hair touching his shoulders, a light blue polo shirt inside a pair of beige-coloured trousers that didn’t covered his ankles, letting him gaze a pair of white socks and, naturally, trainers. The latter extended the busy hand towards Jisung, “Oh, thank you. Without you I would have lost it.”

“Pretty special, isn’t it?”

Jisung looked at the notebook with enamored eyes, “A memory. It must have more than ten years.”

“I see, I see.” the young man’s voice was shamelessly sweet, although you didn’t know him, it was hard not to get fond of his voice, “Today, I saved your dinosaur. Magical.” joked he.

“Yeah, yeah. Now it’s safe and sound.”

The other tilted his head, staring at Jisung’s bag, “You have many others, I see.”

“I’m what you call a diary man.” joked he too, “How about you?”

“Photograph.” only in that moment, Jisung noticed that he was holding a camera in his other hand.

“Sounds cool.” he smiled, “Both of them are ways to remember things. I’m Jisung, by the way.”

“Hyunjin, nice to meet you.” sighed he gently, putting his camera around his neck, in order to shake Jisung’s hand.

“I think we’ll be great friends, it isn’t too soon, right?” he laughed saying that, but he really meant it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading friends, if you wanna leave something on [curious cat ](https://curiouscat.me/writinghwang). love you and take care!!!


	15. Aeneid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spring air and decisions, what else?

At the end of May, Jeongin actually had to help his roommate and friend Minho to pack his stuff. The heat was almost desert-like, the back of his t-shirts got sweaty even doing nothing and the fan wasn’t helping at all. The three of them – he, Minho and Seungmin had taken a day off to dedicate to get the part of his room empty. As expected, things changed. Of course, Jeongin noticed a distortion in who he thought Minho was. He was showing himself fully, it sounded like he had returned the old Minho he had met the first day. On the other hand, a massive change upset even Jeongin himself. He was trying with all his strength to crack it down. In the end, the flaute and the music stand made enlightning, someway, their room and Jeongin took the opportunity not to feel guilty.

His ears, after more than three weeks, rang hearing for hours and hours the melodious blow of the flute. Although Minho had told him the conservatory had already accepted him, the musician kept on practising every day. Jeongin wasn’t sure what crossed his mind – if it was an unrehearsed perfectionism or a filling of a long, eternal lack; the fact is that he had to settle for studying Catullus and Flaccus under a pretty more unknown composition for transverse flute. And if the exam of literature was close but didn’t scare him, the two-month away translation exam was giving him the most dreadful nightmares.

He and Seungmin revised wherever it was possible, from their weeping willow, the library, their rooms, to even the bathrooms. Even though he ended up translating a text regarding the last war against Mithridates sitting on a public, dirt and unsanitary toilet, his skills didn’t get any better. On the contrary, they seemed the Ancient Romans after hundreds years of war, at the end of which they even lost. The war wasn’t over, but certainly it put a strain on him. As if it wasn’t enough, Minho was leaving in the middle of Summer term and Hyunjin was.. Jeongin didn’t want to open the chapter “Hyunjin”, truthfully.

It was the day. After two long weeks of a mixture of packaging and studying and writing notes in the most disparate locations, they were closing the last boxes and Minho was ready to leave. In the bottom of his heart, Jeongin was relieved that Minho hadn’t been able to enter earlier in the conservatory; he was rapid, almost abrupt and thoughtless concerning thoughts and actions, yet it wanted it to go slowly. It went slow, pity that it was always too fast.

“Let me see, you live, mh, ten minutes away from here and _still_ took with you all that stuff?” Seungmin was weary, both physically and mentally. No wonder, Jeongin pitied him: Seungmin followed him in something he absolutely sucked at, helped Minho leaving and, at the end of the day, he had to put up with Jisung. If he’d been asked to be him for a day, without any doubt Jeongin would have declined.

“I had to move anyway.” sighed he, “I don’t know how I’m making all work at Sacred Heart Academy. I’ve heard there’s even less space.” as Minho was talking, Jeongin brought at least a first box out of door.

“Taking boxes home a little at time would’ve been better, you know?” the day had just started and Jeongin was out of his mind.

“What are you bringing outside, though?

“Hm” he tried to move the box to read the inscription, “I can’t read, but it’s something quite heavy, Minho.” saying that, he got in the room again, seeking for another box to take. Minho and Seungmin were chatting in the back, Jeongin heard something about occasions, chances, future and adulthood. Instinctively, Jeongin frowned; Minho and he were close, not as close as he and Seungmin, but still close, nevertheless they had never stumbled into such conversations. They had deep talks, confidences, it was normal and pleasant as the relationship was getting stronger. Still, nothing like that. They knew each other at that stage, so he couldn’t understand why he was so easily confiding in Seungmin. Perhaps, no matter how his friendship had gone back to normal, Minho was struggling trusting him again. That reflection faded away in a glimpse, leaving room for more practical and forseeable affairs. “Oi slackers, no intention in helping me?”

The eldest drew closer to a carton, “That’s your nickname, don’t you dare.” laughed he.

Moving them away didn’t take as long as expected, despite the predictions. Minho and Seungmin were outside, transporting finally everything in Jeongin’s car. The latter stayed still, in what used to be their room and that from that moment on would have called his. Without Minho, it was empty. The unmade bed, the envelopes of snacks under it, which took many crumbles to sweep; the caring, implied good morning of raising the shutters while Jeongin was still sleeping. The clumsiness of a so prepared, deep, cautious person. The smooth cover of a book that masked a great story. He kneeled down, to see it there was something under his friend’s bed: garbage. Certainly, Minho went against any stereotype about classical musicians. And the garbage.. he would have cleaned later. But as soon as possible.

In a matter of an hour and a half, they had brought everything to Minho’s house. The living room, whose floor was covered with a huge red persian rug, was crawling with luggage and boxes. Minho crawled into the sofa, which found place in front of the wall that covered the stairs. At its right and left, a couch. No television.

The style was kind of traditional and old fashioned, yet the ceiling, compared to the furniture, was bare. An unlit bulb dangled in the middle of the living room, a visibly aged and scruffy chimney, that of fire had only the rest; an ensemble of grey ash. Along with the ceiling, also the walls were barren. No family photos or pictures. Only white varnish. He had never seen Minho’s home before, and it felt weirdly cold. Inconsistent with his friend’s bright and messy personality, at least.

“Yeah, no television, guys.” said Minho, stretching his muscles a little. Jeongin and Seungmin were standing under the dusty bulb. Crap, was it even safe? “You can sit down, ya know?” obeying to the young man’s request, they both sit down – Seungmin on the sofa, next to Minho, and Jeongin on a couch always near the eldest.

“Are you taking the train?” asked Seungmin, bringing to an end the silence born because of tiredness.

“No, it would be masochistic. My dad’s gonna give me a lift, so he will help me with the move-in.”

“I would have helped you if you had asked me, Min.” got between Jeongin, he didn’t know why he felt so left behind. Funny how it seemed his life lately. Perhaps, he was just overthinking. Seungmin had been for ages the open, extroverted one in the duo, there was nothing new.

“Don’t worry. I had to do this without you, I guess.” many questions could have followed from that statement, but both Jeongin and Seungmin said nothing.

“So, no goodbye at the railing station?” asked the youngest, it was the only thing that popped in his mind to break the ice that theorically was dividing he and Minho.

“No goodbye at the railing station. I’m leaving tomorrow morning, pretty early. The conservatory is some hours away from here.”

“Some hours away means it is in the other part of the country…” observed Seungmin, firm. Jeongin couldn’t tell what he was thinking.

“Hm, but, uh, it’s the best academy out there.” defended himself the other, from his best friend face Jeongin thought he had already heard that sentence, “It could be my last chance to get into an orchestra. If I went anywhere else, maybe it would be useless.”

“That’s what you told me. Damn, the thing is that,” he looked at Jeongin, “we will miss you so so bad.” Seungmin wasn’t exactly the emotive one usually. Jeongin sighed, he knew too well the reason of that sudden emotionalism. However, he nodded, there wasn’t anything to add, in the end.

Soon, they headed towards the door. Minho took the keys, unlocking the entrance. Jeongin and Seungmin stayed at the doorstep. It was the moment of greetings and they didn’t know where to start. The warm presence of Minho, almost jarring in front of the cold environment of his habitation and the greyish clouds, which started showing up in a light blue sky. The eldest face in the dim light, the other two beaten by a feeble, frozen light. If it was a see you soon, it was indeed too dark for their mood.

* * *

“Tell me something about Virgil, uh?”

Among the many strange places Jeongin had found himself studying at, that afternoon joined the laundry room. Usually desert early in the afternoon, Jeongin placed the latin literature book and his copy of Aeneid to read on a washed out white washing machine. Seungmin was trying to mind both his and his best friend’s business, whereas the latter, resting boringly an elbow on the washer, flicked through the books in the desperate attempt to get some notions into his head.

Jeongin puffed, “Erm, he was born in 70 BC. He firstly lived in northern Italy. I guess? Like, uh, he studied in Cremona, Milan and then moved to Rome. Maybe only when he was in Naples he kinda… took interest in Epicuronism, something like that.”

“It’s Epicureanism.” corrected him Seungmin, shutting the lid.

The rumbling coming from the washing machine covered a bit Jeongin’s voice, “Yeah, whatever.”

“Go on, hurry up!”

“So, Virigil’s life is collocated between the decline of republican institution and many civil wars, isn’t it? Reason why he grew a strong desire of freedom and order, values attribued to Mos maiorum. His terminology is common, pretty simple, but refined as well. Wait, was there something about Dante? When he, uh, read his works in christian terms? Gosh, I don’t remember a single thing.” he slapped repeatedly his cheeks, as if it would have made him memorise something.

His best friend jumped on the washing machine next to the one he was studying on, “And literature isn’t the problem..”

“I swear, it isn’t! I just.. Ohw, I didn’t revise that part yesterday.” sighed he, tearing his hair out, “There’s still this bunch of things to study, I haven’t finished reading the book and the exam is in” he looked at his watch, “Less than a month and a half. I’ll fail them both.”

“Not true. You’re at a good point, actually. The most important thing is..” a notification interrupted him. Jeongin grabbed his phone from the back pocket of his trousers, ignoring Seungmin.

“Minnie? Read this.” asked he, pretty confused by a so sudden message from Chan, “I thought it was Hyunjin but.. he’s been leaving me on read since, hm, Minho and Jisung broke up.”

“What a coincidence.” claimed the other sarcastically, as the younger was handing him his phone. The latter watched Seungmin reading the just received message, “Africa? What does it mean?”

“What’s written there, I think. He’ll leave after graduating.” stated Jeongin, uncertain, “Damn, two weeks. It’s… He’s gonna be a volunteer in Kenya. I didn’t have it coming, ouch.”

“Spring air is making people doubt their life choices?” the friend joked, “Has he ever talked to you about it?”

He pouted, “Now that I think of it no, but we haven’t seen each other of ages. I must have missed something.” he reasoned, keeping on scrolling the display of his phone, absent-minded. He wasn’t supposed to care about it that much, but how couldn’t he when he had opened up so much to someone?

“Here to remind you that the fourth book of Aeneid won’t read itself” at those words, Jeongin looked up at him, and then coming back to his phone. Probably, reading Aeneid would have been better. Interesting _and_ convenient: the best choice hands-down. He had never argued with Virgil, it was the truth, but another truth was that he would have pleased slapping Hyunjin. On his cheeks. With two bricks. “Jeongin?”

“Sorry, just checking a chat.” said he, chewing his own words, “In your opinion, I’ve done something wrong to Hyunjin?”

“Not to my knowledge.” responded the older, shrugging, “Do you think you’ve mistaken telling, uh, him about the family thing?”

He nodded, sighing out a deep breath, “I guess so.” he smirked again, “Well, time for sentimalism is over. Let’s get into this Virgil’s poem.”

* * *

Outside, it was already dark when Jeongin decided to clean up his room. Getting rid of the rest of the snacks under an empty bed had been horrible. He tried to put on some of his favourite music. Useless to say that it didn’t help. His evening study session was waiting for him, but he preferred to tidy every metre of a so lonely room. Among that silence, he asked himself what would have happened if those photos were really for Minho, or they didn’t exist at all.

He had wasted too much hidden happiness rejoicing them. What was so important about Hyunjin? Why did he let himself falling in that silly trape? Looking back at the blushing Jeongin getting red for a little physical contact, he seemed so naïve. Hyunjin had framed him in his finger-tips, in his teeth, and in his straight hair. Jeongin let himself get turned around. In his mind, it was like an omelette cooked in a pan. He wished he hadn’t enough time to get attached to the other, sadly even a second had been enough. One day they were getting closer (who knows what he was expecting, though) and the next one, oh, the next one Hyunjin wasn’t talking to him.

He had seen them. Hyunjin and Jisung, hanging out more than once. But he had never told Minho something, it wasn’t the right time. Moreover, it would have been better if he had never known about it. That way, Jeongin unlocked the door talking about something else, while the image of them two was fading away. They had never done something different from the things two friends do; it was too much already. Hyunjin could forget Jeongin – okay, he didn’t want to, and that made the elder an outcast. What he couldn’t do was ignoring what Jeongin had told him. How could he turn his back from them? They had happened, for God’s sake. And how could Jisung archive five years with Minho so suddenly?

The truth was that that void had actually cracked his heart a little. Jeongin was like that; at the brifiest signal of something wrong, he acted. Also that time he did. Well, he could have shouted at Hyunjin, at Jisung, or at both of them. It was so him reacting badly. Absurdly, sometimes the only fair thing to do is to keep quiet. The only way to solve things was staying silent. Human’s soul so strange: sometimes, it opens up, sometimes, it pulls back.

He couldn’t stand it any more. He wanted calm, peace, quiet. Jeongin got out of his room, exiting from the dormitory; he descended the stairs running, finding eventually himself sorrounded by an unusual warm breeze. It was too hot for his jumper. He wanted to see that statue, around which they build up friendships and dissolved knots. After 9:00, it was hard to find somebody.

How ironic life is. Among all the people he could find, he found them two. Jisung resting his back on the weeping willow trunk – that picture reminded himself so bad, why was that so cruel?, Hyunjin gently and happily talking on the other guy’s lap. Jeongin stood there, unable to move or get anger out of his body. Again. And then, Hyunjin tilted his head; Jeongin feeling his gaze on him. He would have waved his hand, but Hyunjin turned around right away. He didn’t know what it was. However, whatever it was, it tasted too bitter to be unconcious, not intentional.

Jeongin surpassed the duo, sitting on the other side of the tree. He grabbed his book from the bag he had with him, starting reading from the page that the bookmark signed. He kept on reading for a while, although he listened to the two friends’ conversation all the time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okk thanks for reading !! comment/kudos/cc are super appreciated, so curious to know how the story's received <33 to send me cc: [ask me anything!](https://curiouscat.me/writinghwang)


	16. Time machine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blueberry juice after 8 pm

Jeongin hated parties. Jeongin hated overcrowded places, people pushing around to make their way among sweaty, sticky skins. He hated the loud music giving his ears a grilling. The bittersweet taste of a drink running down his throat, making him shiver. Jeongin could stand many things, but parties were, to him, a pain in the neck. He had been told by pretty much everyone that he was supposed to have fun at young age, otherwise what would he do later? He always nodded, rolling his eyes and hating them even more – he could enjoy himself with his friends without necessarily sticking close to strangers and getting wasted.

Basically, his goal had become dodging them as much as possible. Sadly, his plans got ruined almost every time; it means that he found himself sitting somewhere (better if leaning on a wall), sipping an analcoholic drink, watching the other guests do.. whatever they do. Sometimes, he could consider himself lucky finding not just a wall, but a lonely space. Heaven. Instead, most of the times he had to wait until the party was over with the crowd and the chaos. Needed to be said, if one of his friends wanted to take him to an event, he had no problem in declining. There was, again, another time in which he couldn’t complain about the constriction nor say a quick no: it was when one of his friends threw a party. And he got tricked by himself. Damn.

“You’ll arrive to Nairobi at 6:00? Uh, ten hours of flight must be tiring.” a week before his literature exam, Jeongin agreed on locking himself in the room and not getting out of it. His pen could explode at any moment, his brain as well and the yellow marker was begging for mercy. At least, the book was almost finished and those authors were less hard to remember. He yawned, he didn’t recall when he stopped counting days spent on his desk. So that it was possible, Jeongin switched off his phone for good, he wouldn’t have received any notification anyway. Strangely, after another day of foolish study, his display reported a missed call from Chan. Let’s be honest, he couldn’t ignore his friend.

“Yeah, but I’m quite ready! I can’t wait to catch that flight.” as Chan was talking about his plans once he would have landed in Kenya, Jeongin was striving to find a comfy position on his bed, “I can’t lie, I am so scared. Excitement is prevailing, though.” the younger stood up, after having put on speaker, grabbing a second pillow from the closet. He then layed on bed again, putting it behind his head, “Have I told you I won’t be alone? This acquaintance of mine is leaving too, I’m not sure whether we’ll be together or not, still at least I’m not having a long flight on my own.”

“That’s good, I suppose.” said he, torturing his hangnail on his finger. Really, supporting Chan was the only reasonable thing, but he didn’t know much about voluntary service and how it worked, so he was trying not to disappoint the other. One thing had surprised him. They had been on call for almost twenty minutes and Chan hadn’t even slightly mentioned his brand new degree, all he talked about was his upcoming adventure. Chan was lucky. He had a dream.

“Oh ehy, talking about Kenya…”

“Tell me” he swallowed his own saliva, “I’m all ears”

“I thought it’d be cool doing a kind of, uh, party? To, you know, greet my friends before going abroad.” Jeongin banged his head against the pillow, it couldn’t be happening, “I’d love if you came, Innie. Well, I know you’re pretty busy with exams but still.. We won’t see each other for so long…”

Jeongin didn’t answer, preferring staring at the door of his room in front of him. Was that a hole in his sock? Truthfully, the temptation of sparing himself from a boring, long and excruciating night was gobbling him up. Nevertheless, it came to Chan. He wasn’t some fellow student he had to meet once or twice a week because they attended the same course. Although he would’ve rather spending the night under the light of his table lamp and glasses, he realised he wasn’t strong and mean enough to do so.

“No no, don’t worry. I can _definitely_ find free time for you, hm?” once those words were out of his mouth, Jeongin processed their real meaning. Nothing could have saved him. Nothing.

“Ohw, I knew you were the best! See you tomorrow at my place after 8 pm!” he hanged up right away.

Jeongin had no doubts, it was a plan against him.

* * *

He found a spot a few metres before Chan’s home. His family lived in a small town near the city, in a residential area of terraced houses whose indigo plaster was, by now, battered and saggy. Still, the properties, from an uncareful eye, appeared studied in detail. Admittedly, the green, squared gardens played a role, helped by the clean, quiet and long street. Although Jeongin had already been there years before, his eyes didn’t catch any anomaly. It was like he remembered.

He didn’t need to recognise the house, the voices were enough. As soon as it was in front of it, Jeongin could hardly believe that a party was thrown there. The home was exactly the same – a delicate white fence which divided it from the other houses, the doorbell on which there was a piece of masking tape where the surname Bang was written. They were still waiting to get a proper label. Firstly, Jeongin thought about ringing the bell, but he soon noticed that the gate had been left open. He crossed the yard, finding then open as well the front door.

From the entrance – a vintage kitchen area at his right, at his left what totally gave him the idea of being a comfortable living room, exaggerated by the old parquet, Jeongin could glimpse another door in the opposite part of the wide room, facing the indoor garden and the actual party. So, he reached the other doorway, clashing the soles of his shoes against the floor of the porch.

Chan had told him he had invited only his closest friends, reason why Jeongin was forbidden from taking with him Seungmin; even so, at least eighty people were massed within the courtyard. His longtime friend had planned everything widely: on the fence, twinkle lights enlightened the approach of a dark night; two plastic tables offered drinks and food, whereas, finally, a speaker spread electronic music.

Before even approaching to someone, Jeongin felt out of place. This wasn’t his place. He was friends with Chan, but someway it looked like they had been splitted up, clandestines in their new lives and new, unforseen strangers collapsed in their different realities. He didn’t know his friends, those people dancing, talking, kissing, eating, yet they were supposed to own the same wire that linked them to Chan. It was the same, then. But in reality, it wasn’t; he hadn’t hold Chan for a while and the loss of that strength had taken them onto different paths.

Immediately, he seeked for his friend in the crowd. Where was he? Jeongin surpassed the porch, turning continuously his head in an attempt to find the only familiar face he knew there. Well, one of the _two_ familiar faces at the party. Against his will, Jeongin got in the middle of the festivities, between people dancing and moving heads, arms and feet to the rhythm of the songs played. Here he gazed him, sitting on a plastic chair with someone Jeongin didn’t recognise and laughing at their words. Hyunjin was there and Jeongin didn’t mind finding a reason for his stomach hurting out of the blue.

Given up on meeting Chan any time soon, Jeongin drew closer again to the veranda, which was, by the way, the safest zone of the garden. And it would have been, if a cold, almost freezing liquid hadn’t hit the back of his leather jacket, followed by a bottle falling on the ground. Jeongin turned around right away, finding a young man who could have been more or less his age kneeling down to grab the thing that had fallen.

“No, no, no. Damn it, I’m sorry.” when the stranger got up, Jeongin felt like he had seen him somewhere, even though he couldn’t tell where. In his hand, he was holding an open bottle of blueberry juice and Jeongin realised that the drink was on his jacket. What had he done to end up in such situation?

“Oh, don’t worry. I…” he stuttered, putting off the pink leather jacket permanently damaged by a huge, purple stain, “Well, erm, I should have cleaned it anyway.” said he eventually, hoping that it would have been the end of the conversation.

Instead, the guy tilted his head, in.. realisation? “Wait, you’re Jeongin, aren’t you? Chan talked to me about you!”

Verily, Jeongin wasn’t used to people knowing him without he, at least, knowing their name. It was the case, though. That guy had a smile stuck on his face and even the way he spoke felt reassuring and friendly. He was Chan’s type. Absolutely. “You know me?”

“There’s no way I couldn’t, to be honest.” sighed he, scratching his neck with the free hand, “By the way, I’m Changmin. Nice to meet you.” everything that followed the sentence was a sequence of getting something to drink (sparkling water, Jeongin found out that Woojin was a teetotaler), sitting on a step of the porch and talking about the stuff that every acquaintance tell. That was something Jeongin didn’t displease; staying in a secluded corner, apart from the noise. Talking with Changmin was nice, they were on the same page and he was even hazard to think that the night hadn’t turned for the worse.

Jeongin was holding with both of his hands an empty glass which used to contain water, “I still haven’t seen Chan since I arrived”

Changmin shrugged, “You know how he is, no? He enjoys being the centre of everyone’s attention.” differently, Jeongin had never pointed out that aspect about him – he wondered if he had changed or if they didn’t know each other as deeply as he believed.

“Hm, yeah. You seem to be great friends.” observed he, “ ‘Must know each other perfectly.” the other puffed, not adding anything else.

“What?”

“I thought I knew him pretty well, too.” said he, staring at the grass, “Sooner or later, everyone goes wrong to ponder.” He laid the glass on the wooden step.

Jeongin frowned, the environment got serious out of the blue, “True. But, uhm, what do you mean?”

He shook his head, “Nevermind.” then, they stayed silent. The music was still loud, a good bridge between the two of them.

The dirty pink leather jacket was covering Jeongin’s legs, and while he was inventing a way to make the horrible stain vanish, he finally spot Chan. He was with Hyunjin, doing whoever knows what – surely, talking. Jeongin could see Chan only from his back, so the image of Hyunjin swallowing, swallowing and swallowing again something that gave the impression of being a beer was clear. It wasn’t Hyunjin. Or, probably, just a part of him Jeongin hadn’t the chance to see. He didn’t hate Hyunjin, he didn’t understand him. How could someone decifrate his language? He got closer, obstinate, perhaps, more than Jeongin himself – the time to get into his chords, having some fun. And he was gone.

Although a part of him was furious, mad, the other part couldn’t believe that the beauty he owned was only in his face. Nothing else. Hyunjin was so vividly laughing, dancing around strangers, yet he looked so pale, a body without a soul, a sentence without a period. Jeongin was disappointed. He would have dug until the earth was a sea to discover the thoughts that crossed Hyunjin’s mind – because they did, Jeongin was sure his head wasn’t an empty box. Hyunjin didn’t want to. And that was the right distance: the distance between the porch and the garden.

“Also Hyunjin told me about you. Several times.” spoke Changmin, presumably he had noticed where Jeongin’s gaze was heading.

“Oh.” he paused, “I guess you know him”

“We’re roommates, I can say we _really_ know each other.” nonetheless, the calm he had talking about him made the other believe that Hyunjin hadn’t said a word about the fact that he decided to give up on Jeongin. “On the subject, you should do me a favor.”

Jeongin pouted, “What’s that?”

“I’m not going back to the dorm tonight” he looked away, “I gotta.. help Chan cleaning up after the party’s over, you know. You’ll notice Hyunjin’s drinking way too much tonight. He usually withstands alcohol, but he can’t drive and I cannot move from here.”

“He doesn’t have a friend who could get him a lift?”

“He’s got you.” stated Woojin, “Please, I’m begging you.”

Jeongin looked back at Hyunjin, coming across him was the last thing he wanted; then, he looked at Changmin and found out that they were looking in the same direction, but he felt they weren’t staring at the same person, “Okay. I’ll do it.” as he was saying that, he prayed everything would have been fine.

* * *

“Tell me when you’re done.” Jeongin closed the bathroom door, remaining alone in the only corridor in Chan’s house. He leaned his back against the door, crawling until he was sitting on the floor. There was a problem and he knew when it started. Naturally, it wasn’t his fault if he wasn’t a party animal, he couldn’t be blamed because of that; people liked staying up all night jumping in their fancy clothes? Well, good for them. He fell asleep before 11 pm.

He yawned. Ironically, he watched on the display of his phone, it was almost midnight. If Hyunjin hadn’t been the one to kill him, the murderer would have been his lack of sleep. Still, Hyunjin seemed to be trying his best that night. He shouldn’t have trusted Changmin, instead he should have understood everything from the fact he was holding a blueberry juice. His mum had always told him to be wary of people who drank juice after 8 pm. But she didn’t trust anyone out there, so it didn’t really count; it was just a way not to get his son drinking too much sugary drinks. She had a point.

His mood started to fall miserably down when he had agreed with Changmin to help him. The latter had brought him towards Chan and Hyunjin, who couldn’t care less about what surrounded them. At first, Jeongin ignored him, focusing on Chan and complementing him for the great night. Hyunjin’s gaze burdened on him, but Jeongin ignored even that. He wondered why, all of a sudden, the young man wanted to talk when he was leaving on read his messages, turning his head at his eyes and pretending he didn’t exist. Then, he bursted into noisy laughs, wrapping his arms around the younger and pecking his cheeks.

The rest could be described only as dreadful. Jeongin had been able for the whole party not to get into the crowd, until they had all decided to “have some fun”. Another thing he had been taught by his mother was not to, on no account, agree with somebody who was plausibly drunk, even just a little. But she said so as she was buying a couple of alcoholic beverages, so eleven year-old Jeongin just nodded. Pointless lesson or not, she was right. He would have preferred not seeing Hyunjin gulping _that_ amount of beer mixed with another liquid that was arguably a liquor down, and then jumping, initiating conversation of questionable meaning.

In any case Jeongin, poor naïve victim, believed he could take it. Soon, he would have been so tired that he would have taken Hyunjin away from there coming back home and giving his stomach a rest. It had different plans. And Jeongin sighed and rolled his eyes when Hyunjin threw up on someone’s shoes and his own shirt. Lucky he held his liquor well. Jeongin saw the good side of it – a perfect excuse to walk away from the crowd. Chan quickly explained where the bathroom and his room were so that Hyunjin could, at least, bounce back and change his clothes.

This time, Jeongin put Hyunjin’s arm around his shoulders. The elder giggled. Stupid. At first glance, Hyunjin didn’t look like he was going to fail or wasn’t able to stand up straight, but it was better not to risk. As they were slowly going upstairs, Jeongin wished Hyunjin had been sober. Wouldn’t have he, otherwise, being capable of continuing his personal party sipping sparkly water? He wanted to let Hyunjin go just for once, just to figure out how it feels like. His body was screaming to let it let him go, whereas Hyunjin decided to cling and claw to his skin. Why was he making it impossible?

However, Jeongin sat the tipsy guy on the toilet, ordering him not to move until he was back. He grabbed the first t-shirt he’d seen in the closet and a towel, and then he left Hyunjin in the bathroom, hoping he would have managed taking a shower. What a weird situation. From the yard, he heard someone reading a letter to Chan like Changmin had told him when he couldn’t even imagine what was about to happen. It must had been a sweet moment. Perhaps, if everything had gone as he wished, Jeongin would have even sobbed at that point. He giggled at the thought of someone as drunk as Hyunjin (or even drunker) watching the scene.

Jeongin was there. Sitting on the cold floor, perceiving Hyunjin joking with the showerhead. It was going to be a long night. He didn’t quantify how long he had been waiting, when the elder opened the bathroom door. The white t-shirt he was wearing, Jeongin noticed, was a bit large on the shoulders and the waist. Jeongin stood up. They looked at each other, Jeongin was even thinking about forgiving him, starting from that night. In that moment, Hyunjin threw at him the vomit dirty shirt he had been wearing. No, he wouldn’t have forgiven him.

“Oooh, my Jeongin..” chuckled Hyunjin, leaning his hands on Jeongin’s shoulder, wrapping him up in a hug. He was clingy. Definitely.

“Yeah, yeah, my Jeongin. Now I’ll have nightmares because of this disgusting shirt for the next few days.” commented he, sourly, “By the way, do you remember where you put your jacket?”

Apparently, Hyunjin had left his jacket on the sofa. He assessed Hyunjin could grab it without his help, so he minded finding a plastic bag where he could put their dirty clothes. After maybe two minutes, Hyunjin reached him, “Where are we going?” asked he, placing his chin on his shoulder. Jeongin took a deep breath.

“Home, Hyunjin. I take you back home.”

His visage looked horrified, “Wait, at home!? No, no, no, my Jeongean… You don’t understand, they’re gonna, uh, they’re gonna cut off my head. You do not want that to happen, do you?”

“Home means the dorm. Nobody’s gonna take you to your parents.” he remembered, again, Changmin telling him Hyunjin family’s home was pretty near Chan’s place, but that it was better not to leave him there; his parents didn’t like the idea of their son getting drunk as a skunk. Or they didn’t like the idea of their son being too clingy, he supposed. “Hurry up, though. It’s getting late.” he looked at his watch: 00.30 am.

There wasn’t even the possibility of losing Hyunjin; the young man went arm in arm with him, humming and hopping on the sidewalk. Having with you drunk Hyunjin was way similar to taking a kid around. A noisy, annoying kid. Luckily, the car wasn’t distant and they soon get on, “Buckle up.”

“What are you doing?” asked Hyunjin, after he had diligently followed Jeongin’s advice.

“Sending a text to Chan. We didn’t greet, it was the slightest.” he put away his phone right after. Looking at Hyunjin, before starting the car, Jeongin wanted to know whether the other was aware of what was happening. Of course, the young man was anything but sober; in fact, the desire wasn’t actually the one of Hyunjin knowing he was _this_ intrusive, rather it was the will of Hyunjin knowing he was acting like he had never hurt him. That led onto his last question mark, the one which picked on him in the most inappropriate moments; for example, when he looked up from his notebook during class, or when he finished cleaning up his room, or when he crawled under the covers that thought slid onto his mind – was his intent making him feel like that? The answer he learnt to give himself was that it didn’t matter what his intention was, because Hyunjin was harming him anyway.

The night was quiet. The moon and the stars chased their car as if they were some criminals running away and although Jeongin’s mind stumbled in thousands of thoughts and worries, the older wasn’t saying a word. Perhaps he felt asleep, that’s what Jeongin hoped as they were approaching to the dorm. He turned his head from the road, finding Hyunjin drawing clouds on the car window, “Ooh little, tiny clouds you’re so cute, don’t you know?” yes, being with Hyunjin was like being with a five year-old. Honestly, it was okay. He didn’t need to have _the_ speech that night, and neither he needed to know what crossed his mind. Jeongin would have just took Hyunjin home and it would be over.

As they had to go upstairs, Jeongin asked whether Hyunjin needed help, the latter shook his head, surpassing him and trying to climb the stairs. At the second step, he staggered. Jeongin would have preferred spare this, but in the end he couldn’t do anything, ergo he helped Hyunjin again.

The latter was behaving as he had done for the whole night, Jeongin was even starting believing that he could have been much worse. It was bearable. “Jeongin?”

“Hm?”

“I was… thinking. I was thinking, why have you taken me here?”

“Changmin is staying at Chan’s, as far as I know. He’s asked me to help you.” mumbled he, taken aback.

“But Changbin was theree! His room is next to mine.”

“I don’t know, Changmin must have talked to me first.”

Fortunately, they arrived at the door fast. Jeongin, with Hyunjin’s key, opened the door and switched on the light. In that moment, he realised he’d never seen before his room. Someway, he felt the same way he did when he entered into Chan’s room – it had been something, a little fire, then the night came and the future was… weird. Primarily, when it met the past. Two different worlds. People don’t need a time machine to travel in space-time.

“Erm, if you feel bad again call someone. I think Chan, Changbin and Changmin would be awake. Changbin is even next you, uh.” he didn’t know what he should have said, he didn’t even know if it was a good idea leaving Hyunjin alone, even though he didn’t feel so bad, “Lock the door and go to sleep.”

Hyunjin smiled, “Oh, my Jeongin…”

“What’s wrong now?”

While his mind was picturing what Hyunjin could ever want, two soft lips encountered his. Colder than expected, in that fragment of time he’d been even able to taste how chapped they could be. Jeongin’s always busy, worried mind was, suddenly, blank. Not able to think straight. Still, all that crossed his mind were tiny black tangles he didn’t process or build up. It was only a nanosecond, a moment of fool leisure from his own cage and liberty, though. Then, his mind worked again. And it wasn’t about cold and chapped lips, it was about rationalise the events – they weren’t two cold, chapped lips, they were Hyunjin’s and they were crashing with his. His heart was wondering what it meant, whereas his mind was wondering why, why he among all the people out there? Why did he let his guard down when there was nothing to say any more? Was that delusional? He did a step back, before he could find a proper answer.

They looked at each other. Hyunjin wasn’t talking. Jeongin was trying to untangle his thoughts. It was late. “See you, uh? Don’t get yourself in trouble.” said the younger, going away, “Lock the door!”

Jeongin hated parties. Not because of the loud music or the sweaty skin, rather because they always mess everything up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you enjoyed this chapter!! please, lmk what you think :(( just wanna know how the story has been going so far <33 thanks fr reading as always, take care!  
> [curious cat](https://curiouscat.me/writinghwang)  
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/writinghwang)


	17. Answers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Changbin knew everything (or that's what Jeongin had thought)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ehYYyYYYYyYyYy !!!!! i'm so sorry this is coming after two damn weeks but they've been pretty stressful in general >:( unrequited love sucks even when you're over it, that's sad. however, hope you'll enjoy this chapter that i didn't think would have been so long lmao. ily <3 IMPORTANT: READ THE NOTE AT THE END OF THIS CHAPTER i talk about how i'll change some aspects of the story

Nam Jangmin used to wear so much flowery skirts and plain pulls, that Jeongin didn’t even remember the woman without them. She was probably in her sixties; grey strips affected her always gathered into a bun brown hair, rectangular glasses left a glimpse of wrinkles flooding around her eyes, and in her small, almost stubby hands still dwelled a bit of her story, a place unchanged and of eternal youth. Same hands that, however, had been tipying on typewriters, computers and filling out logbooks for more than thirty years. A plenty of paperwork. That’s pretty much how Jeongin saw her.

Nobody had ever seen her walking around the dorm or having a chat with a student. Truthfully, nobody had ever seen her out of her office at all. Which is why Jeongin didn’t worry about walking past the office. Jeongin… Jeongin was tired that day. Perhaps, he shouldn’t have stayed awake until so late, he shouldn’t have been deceived by people he barely knew. The biggest regret laid on his lips, which could still taste a bit of a so cold copy of them. Sooner or later, he knew it, that sensation would have gone away. Hopefully. But it was the first day and he was tired of stumbling into those fresh, horrifying memories. He classified them that way in the morning, right after he had woken up and was competent to stand trial.

Although it seemed a good idea, the boring and grueling routine didn’t help, so fresh and horrifying memories slipped in. Hard had been pretending, in front of Seungmin’s resolute gaze, that nothing bothered him. Nonetheless, he pulled off misdirecting him and he called it a day. Tragically, another weight loomed on his shoulders – he recalled it when he had already greeted his friends and took his way back to the dorm: he should’ve been studying. The upcoming exam, thankfully, took the place of the fresh and horrifying memories, making Jeongin shiver in acknowledgment. He walked past Nam Jagmin’s office, without minding its existence, his mind totally drowning into the poets he hadn’t been revising for two days. And the Aeneid. It looked like he’d forgotten everything.

He was seeking for the key inside his bag, when he felt a hand tapping on his shoulder.

Nam Jangmin could be compared to a smurf in front of Jeongin, she was at least twenty centimetres shorter. Consequently, even though it wasn’t intended, Jeongin had to lower a bit his head in order to face the residence hall director, “You were looking for me?” the woman didn’t waste precious time in words, she just up-turned the palm, keeping on extending and retracting her full of ring fingers; a precise and trenchant method to invite the student to follow her.

The office was small, but well organised. When Jeongin entered, he saw a corkboard hidden by post-it, flyers and papers almost yellowed by time over the white wall. It served as a background for the black desk, the throne of the monarch. Nam Jangmin sat on her throne, browsing something on the computer.

Jeongin, taken aback, closed the door, staying still. If she wanted to see him, he had for sure done something wrong. Had he left the light on until too late? It wasn’t even a good excuse. Had he made too much noise the night before? He’d been so careful. Had he broken something? If so, had he the money to pay his damage?

Nam Jangmin ordered Jeongin to sit down. He took place in the chair in front of the desk, while the director intertwined her hands, resting the forehead on them. Nothing good. “Jeongin, there’s a problem.”

“A problem?” claimed he, baffled. In confusion, he opened his mouth a little, words dying in his throat.

“Shut your mouth unless you want flies to get in.” sighed she, turning side to side with her chair, “It’s about your room.”

“About my room?” repeated he again, pointing at himself.

“Yeah, will you repeat everything I say for the next five minutes?” she puffed, caressing his forehead as she was, once more, browsing on the computer, “We don’t have enough rooms. Exchange students are arriving soon and we don’t have enough rooms for them all.” Jeongin frowned, Nam Jangmin was a master of organisation and she looked pretty struggling.

“What does this have to do with my room?”

“See” she said, clicking somewhere on the screen and rotating the monitor towards Jeongin, “We gotta make room for everyone. It means cut off the excess – you live alone in a room for two students. Do you get my point?”

“I guess so..?” answered he in uncertainity, already picturing himself with a complete stranger in a new room.

“In a first moment I thought of pairing you with an exchange student, but it wouldn’t have been very convenient due to the time of their arrive and also because it is already seen as occupied since you’re still there. We gotta be fast, if you didn’t understand yet. So, I tried to see whether there was a way to make you change dormitory.” _even worse_ , Jeongin thought, “Jeongin, that’s your lucky day. Well, at least it’s mine, otherwise I should have mailed the director who would’ve mailed a certain…” she grabbed a sheet, taking her glasses to the tip of her nose, “Delyan Lukov that his exchange program got cancelled due to a lack of rooms.”

“Jeongin” she exclaimed happily, “I found a new roommate for you: Seo Changbin. Maybe you’ll know that his former roommate left, so he found himself alone in a room for, I repeat, two people. If he moved in your room, there would be an empty room instead of two occupied rooms. It doesn’t solve the problem, but it still is something. What do you think?”

“Oh well, if that’s the best option..”

Nam Jangmin smiled, “I’m glad you’re okay with this! I’ve already told Changbin and he’ll be moving shortly.”

“So that’s all?”

“Yeah, now leave please. I still have some work to get done.”

* * *

Before Changbin opened the door of their room with a shoulder and two arms busy holding the luggage, Jeongin had known him trough Hyunjin’s eyes. Unconsciously, his ex friend had helped him getting to know Changbin better even when there wasn’t a single lead to guess that them two would have had to share twenty-one square metres together. Hyunjin didn’t say much about Changbin, but whenever he did they were never bad things. They were close, Jeongin stated at a certain point; Hyunjin talked umoristically about him, sign that they were comfortable enough to fool each other around without caring. Apart from checked shirts and loafers, he’d been talking about Changbin as a nice guy.

Hyunjin’s part of the story was almost decent, then it came to Seungmin speaking up. Seungmin pouted, mumbled and crossed a red line on the last four rows of his translations; he gave back to Jeongin the notebook, informing him quickly to revise the fifth declension and almost every complement. Therefore, his best friend didn’t bother bringing forward any sparkle of how Changbin was previously.

However, a big problem arose during the last night as a hermit. Jeongin cleaned up again the room, just to be sure everything would have been in place once Changbin would have set a foot within the room. He moved all of his garments hung on the pole to the left, and made long stacks of what remained trying to occupy less space as possible. It came up when he had already shut the shutter and grabbed his pyjama from under the pillow. It came up when he had already spread the cream on his face and put on the speaker on the phone left on a bathroom shelf as he was calling Seungmin. He wasn’t used, not any more at least, to stay with someone else. Jeongin conformed his routine so that it could fit Minho’s. As the months went by, they kind of created a unique balance, only of their own. Verily, Jeongin feared he wouldn’t have been able to do that again.

“When is Changbin arriving, by the way?” thanks God, after fifteen minutes of _Jisung should be here already, I’ve told him to buy those crisps I like… was their name Coolies?_ Seungmin came to the conclusion that it was the right time to change subject. Jeongin sighed in relief, mainly because he couldn’t hear Jisung’s name any longer. As a matter of a fact, Jeongin was pretty undecided about declare who disliked the most between Jisung and Hyunjin. They all had valid reasons, he couldn’t deny the truth; he hadn’t been raised as a liar.

“Tomorrow morning. That’s my last night alone.” said he, closing the tub containing his cream and grabbing his mobile, “It’s gonna be a long day. On the subject, I think I’ll go to sleep now.”

“C’mon, Innie! I’m sure my grandma has a more exciting life and she’s eighty-one.”

“Listen, it’s almost ten and you’re waiting for your roommate to bring you _Coolies_ to eat scrolling through your Instagram timeline. Are you any better?” joked Jeongin, by then heated by the covers. And that it was June didn’t really matter.

“All right, you win.” he slightly heard the other huffing through the phone, “But everything’s going fine lately? You seem a bit under the weather. You aren’t even concentrated. I, I notice that, you know?”

Jeongin made sure to keep it as a secret after that night. He made sure to swallow the bitterest aspirin he had ever taken, but it didn’t work. Nothing slipped away from Seungmin, Jeongin forgot it too often. Seungmin could not know the shape of the padlock that watched over the enigma which, for some reason, wasn’t appropriate to be shared out loud. In any case, pronouncing it didn’t imply break down the wall of papier-mache of his dorm and let all the students know about it. In his mind, he pictured Seungmin. He was his best friend. Nothing bad would have happened. Nothing ever slipped away from Seungmin.

“Erm, just thinkin’ about stuff. I’m confused, not gonna lie.” Jeongin couldn’t see his friend’s facial expressions, but he felt like he would purse his lips, not understanding, “Hyunjin’s taken Julius Caesar place.”

“Excuse me?” bursted Seungmin into laugh, almost spatting on the younger, even though there were two mobile phones and three floors dividing them, “What does it mean? He quitted ignoring you?”

A yawn interrupted them two for a moment, “Probably alcohol spoke for him. He wasn’t himself, I believe. Changmin told me to give him a ride and well..”

“Now you can’t stop thinking about it? What’s that?”

“No, no.. It’s, uh, shit I wish it disappeared from my memory. I had to help him, he was brutally clingy and, and it looked like he was the same, didn’t it? He wasn’t hating me. Then again, I thought he did. He never stopped. I was ready to go, when he- Oh, I can’t stand him.”

“Jeongin? What happened?” the innocent, worried tone Seungmin adopted could be hilarious from the point of view of somebody who knew what had happened for real. Yes, Jeongin found it hilarious; he wanted to thank him. He changed his mind right away.

“He kissed me? I don’t know, Seungmin! His lips touched mine. I felt them. They invaded my personal space. I just wanted to go home and sleep. You know, the party hadn’t been that bad. I’d survived. Then, _wham!_ The tragedy.”

“And what have you intention to do? I’ll be honest, it all seems pretty suspicious. If I were you, I’d act.”

Strangely, against the odds Jeongin had built up during the call, Seungmin didn’t put his focus on the kiss, what had harrassed him the most; instead, he looked beyond, catching him off guard. He didn’t know what it was, if Seungmin had embraced out of nowhere the oblivious side of his, if it was a bad day or he wanted his crisps more than anything else in the world. And although Jeongin changed subject right after, he kept on reflecting on that weird exchange full of particulars between them. As soon as he switched off the light and rested his head against the soft surface of the pillow, the problem wasn’t a problem anymore, rather a little excitement of starting something new. Most importantly, he knew he had to talk to Hyunjin.

Changbin broke into the chamber early in the morning. Until that very moment, Jeongin had only grabbed a carton of milk and, then, drank some of it within from the mini fridge. Minho and he had decided to purchase it after having acknowledged that food and drinks couldn’t be preserved for too long at room temperature. It was, by then, nearly empty – normally, Minho used to take care of refilling and checking whether something was missing in the fridge, simply because he was the one who always bought food. Junk food, to be fussy. Once Minho went away, willingly or unwillingly, Jeongin had to cope with starving. What a man.

Thereby, in the moment Changbin made his way into the room, Jeongin was sleepily finishing his cup of cold milk; definitely a cure-all. Instead, Changbin was uncommonly empty-handed – uncommonly for someone who is changing their room; his hands were, actually, busy holding a box and behind him there was a suitcase. As the new roommate surpassed him, Jeongin sticked his nose outside to see whether there was something else to bring within. Nothing. He thought Changbin wanted not to bring everything in a row.

The latter put his bag on the mattress that distinguished Jeongin’s bed and Changbin’s. The younger cracked his finger, getting all Changbin’s attention, “Have you brought everything or, well, you need a hand?”

“No, no worries. I’ve got everything with me.” said he with a smile, while Jeongin was wondering _how_ he could ever have everything in there, “Would mind helping me, though?” the younger promptly nodded, taking only a second to look at the young man. Concerning the appearance, he was exactly how Hyunjin described him. A fifty year-old in a body of a young adult. Jeongin also knew, thanks to Seungmin, Changbin seemed to have some kind of relationship with Felix. For real, he couldn’t understand how they could possibly get on well; all he learnt of Felix, his best friend’s blatant crush and his roommate’s plausible boyfriend, was that he wasn’t the kind of guy for solid relationships. Changbin? Clean slate. If Felix was a mystery, Jeongin didn’t even try to imagine how Changbin could be when he was in love.

In the end, Changbin needed help with making his bed. Totally normal, Jeongin had always thought those beds were intentionally placed in absurd positions to drive people crazy. Until that moment, it all felt quite bearable, Jeongin could deal with it. Changbin had the unexpected gift of exactly knowing how to make someone at ease, he recalled instantly Hyunjin telling him about the venue Changbin’s parents ran and how their son was extremely talented in relate with the customers (then, Hyunjin gathered his hair into a ponytail, saying through his teeth that his friend had also a well paid job guaranteed, it was stuck in Jeongin’s mind.)

“Hey, what about having a sandwich?” Jeongin checked the time on his phone, it wasn’t even nine o’clock. Changbin seemed pretty convincing, so he decided lightly to follow him. At the right of the entrance door of the dorm, there was a vending machine and, next to it, a bench. Jeongin wasn’t very into it, but it was undeniable to notice how many students congregated around it. Obviously, early in the morning only Changbin and he were there. The elder, Changbin, picked his coveted sandwich, whereas Jeongin just made him company. 

“So, how’s going with Felix?” asked then Jeongin, patting his thighs in embarrassment.

“Felix? Pretty well as usual, I’d say.” he acted too calm for someone who knew what had happened with Seungmin, Jeongin asked himself if Changbin actually knew something about it or not. What was Felix thinking?

“I’m glad” smiled he to be polite, “How long have you guys been together?”

Changbin took another bite of the sandwich, “Together? We aren’t dating.”

The younger waited for a sign that could tell him Changbin was joking, but it never arrived. He said they weren’t dating, at the same time Seungmin found his heart broken and, and saw them kissing and.. He didn’t know what to think, “Really? You seem pretty close, I mean.”

Changbin giggled, “People tell us often. Between Felix and I there’s not much, I’m not in love, if that’s what you’re asking.” He stood up, to threw in a trash bin nearby the envelope of his snack. It was on the other side of the street, with an accurate throw the envelope ended into the can anyway, “Scored! Hm, you know, what they don’t understand is that Felix is the best solution, a fallback whenever I’m bored. I can rely easily on him ‘cause he isn’t interested in me at all.” they looked at each other, without saying a word, “Hyunjin’s special to you, isn’t he?”

Jeongin played nervously with his hangnails, “Don’t think so. I find it hard to value someone as special if they don’t care about you.” he rested both his hands on the edge of the bench, swinging slightly with his back, “It’s the same problem Seungmin has. He has no idea of what Felix thinks of him.”

“Indeed, Felix isn’t easy to read. On the surface, he doesn’t care about anything nor anyone.” he tsked, “I remember perfectly the last time I met Seungmin. Felix and I were having fun, we were with friends having dinner. A nice evening.” Jeongin frowned, where was he going with this?, “You must know Felix has a huge flaw, he doesn’t notice when he crosses the line. Concerning everything. When it’s the moment to stop eating otherwise he’ll cry in pain for a stomachache the next morning, when it’s the moment to go to sleep unless he wants to feel sleepy the whole day, when he crosses the thin line between not being aware and ignoring his own feelings, making eventually suffer someone else. This is what happened. Felix crossed the line, Seungmin ran away. Literally. I expected Lix to, well, continue eating a slice of pizza. Instead, he chased him, I’m not sure he knows what drove him. To me, it was the difference. Perhaps useless, but still a difference.”

Changbin had, if not them all, a large part of the answers at the questions Jeongin was doubtful about every day. Of course, he wasn’t still able to ensure whether he could trust blindly his roommate – maybe he could have helped him to solve the problem he had so much difficulty with, “I think I should talk to Hyunjin.” he bit his tongue once this thought was out of his mouth, stupid irrationality.

“I’m so sorry to tell you that it’s a bit difficult, he came back home for awhile.”

No, maybe Changbin hadn’t all the answers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> !!!!!! READ !!!!!!!!!  
> i think you all know about woojin, and i felt the need to work on that aspect because i do not want to represent, even only fictionally, someone like him - and if you stand with him, i'm telling you right now, you can stop reading this story. even as a fanbase, we gotta do what is needed (although it can be 0% effective irl) to stand with the victims. so, i decided to cut him off from this au and replace him with Ji Changmin from the boyz. as you can see, i started on this chapter. i just ask you now to, please, give me some time to get through all the old chapters to change his name so that he will be deleted, i'm sure you'll understand.
> 
> still, if you wanna let me know your thoughts on the chapter i ask you as always to interact with me on [ curious cat ](https://curiouscat.me/writinghwang) !!! obviously kudos and comments are super appreciated as well <33 se you soon and take care !!!!!


	18. Wrong time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Strawberry and pistachio

Seungmin was a creature of habit. He had built up his life around strict, almost perfect habitudes like a climbing ivy strangling a giant, glass and modern skyscraper; every floor was a year of his life, and the growing stem was his assurance that, despite it was floor by floor hiding the building, something was protecting, wrapping in a tight hug a fragile construction. Seungmin wasn’t fragile. His temperament was obstinate sometimes (that’s why he got on so well with Jeongin), his mind free from pointless trepidation, his nature adaptable. Which was what brought him solving his problems with a shrug and, literally, letting it go.

As a child, his ivy was waking up, watching cartoons, putting his schoolbag on, going to school, going back home, doing homework, eating and going to bed. This ivy remained more or less unchanged for several years. The determination and the ability with which the plant had persisted in mutating to suit Seungmin growth and, at the same time, becoming stronger and stronger was enviable. But Seungmin thought for himself, consequently there still were some empty spaces between a glass window and another one. Basically, those spaces were his acts of rebellion. They often shaped up in a moment alone, far away from other people.

Seungmin couldn’t complain. It went smoothly. The alarm clock set at seven in the morning, the classes alternating with study sessions and the never-ending revisions with Jeongin and the few words at night, before going to sleep, with Jisung. It had looked like living with him would have been a serious problem, nevertheless he emerged unscathed from it. It was a stray between highways of people, signs of alike speeches and empty stopping areas; if Seungmin didn’t cross the highway, he was alone. A deserted building, a cold couch. Draining moments beside false faces, followed by moments of silence, laying in bed, looking at the ceiling.

Then, Felix kicked in.

No hello’s, no nice to meet you’s. Solely, there was a before and an after Seungmin had come across Felix. A before and an after they had crossed paths. Which was unusual, Seungmin had always divided the stages of his life in fields and everytime something came in, he could associated it to a field of his; whether it was a feeling, a person, an habit. He recognised it. Felix was none of them. It was all brand new and, therefore, the novelty had a field all for himself. At the beginning, it was great. Seungmin added always more details into the latest field – it was tidy, organised.

Then, Seungmin got to know Felix.

Thereby, the content of the field became a jumble of other branches. Felix was the unforseen feelings, the skin that heated his, the ends that, like a spoon, enclosed his face, the little stain of saliva on his favourite t-shirt, but also the overflowing ache on his chest, as if it was tearing his ripcage, the migraine for having wrinkled for too long, crying. A double-edged sword, as the saying goes. And as often happens in these cases, Seungmin forced himself to put away the field.

Fortunately, a refuge still existed; it wasn’t far from the college, it needed to walk past some parallel streets not much used by its inhabitants, though. It found place in a corner and was so hidden that no one could imagine what waited for them on the roof. As every self-respecting June, the midday Sun was extremely scorching and it had constricted Seungmin to wear a sleeveless t-shirt and a pair of bermuda shorts.

The groundfloor was a quite small room with no more than five tables and a counter, in which there were some specialities and an ice cream stand. The chandeliers almost touched Seungmin’s head, so low they were, the walls were purple, a purple almost too dark for the place that, however, seemed light at odds with the black tables and chairs. Seungmin entered, immediately going towards the counter, glancing at the food.

Usually, he knew what to pick right away. Easy, trivial choice. Cheese, ham, tomatoes and lattuce. He didn’t feel like eating it. It had been awhile since the last time he had been at the venue. There was no reason, he came to the conclusion he hadn’t anything to look for. Eventually, he picked a bowl of ice cream. Strawberry and pistachio.

The rooftop was empty, except for two tables hidden by a parasol. In one even six people could sit, in the other there was room only for two. The latter was closer to the railing and, by implication, the scenery. The city wasn’t a metropolis, but neither as small as the town he had grown up in. The last building was hard to gaze, whereas all the area was gently kissed by rays of sunshine. One felt on Seungmin’s already sweaty visage, making him squint. Meanwhile, the ice cream got his fingertips soaked; Seungmin trying to stay one step ahead and eating it quickly.

His stomach groaned, as if he was complaining. It was right.

Somebody broke the silence, moving a chair. Seungmin turned his head behind him, believing they sat at that big table. Nobody was there. Maybe it was only his fervent imagination.

A voice.

“Uh, hello.” it was inconceivable not discern the sound of his voice. For sure, he was raving. No, no, no. He wasn’t. Because, again, he lifted his head and he wished it had been a mirage. He wished it had been nothing but an oversight of an ear always ready to listen to that sound. Out of the blue, Felix was next to him. Seungmin had forgotten how it felt like. Well, in his mind the feeling was still vivid, even though not dealing with it sometimes, just sometimes, felt like it had never existed. Literally, putting a plaster on a wound four-fingertip thick. The wound wasn’t healing – Seungmin wondered why it hurt this way and then, he realised how long it took to grab the plaster. And Felix, Felix was holding the knife. He wanted to leave.

“What do you want?” was what slipped out from his mouth, dismissive. Saying those words, Seungmin glanced at him: he had changed. The red of his hair replaced by an ash blonde; the bags under his eyes, his freckles rubbed in world’s face – Seungmin, immediately, recalled an evening with Felix; they had sneaked into the younger’s room, since Jisung wasn’t there. Felix asked if he could use the bathroom and whether he had a makeup remover. He didn’t have any, so Felix had to settle for the water of the sink. The, at the time, red haired man enclosed the door, still Seungmin was able to keep an eye out for Felix, peeking subtly. His head lowered to reach the sink, his hands wet, closed in a spoon again, were washing away his concealer. Felix’s skin was perfect, virgin from any impurity; then, delicate dots were contaminating his cheekbones as if he had a belated kind of chicken pox. Seungmin used to love them, those freckles.

“Just wanna talk.” affirmed he. Even his clothing was different; before, Felix would have never worn sweatpants and a plain, worn out t-shirt. Were they the same?

“You can call Changbin if you feel lonely.” stated neutral the other, putting down on the table his bowl of ice cream. He was about to stand up and leave. In fact, that was what he did: he stood up from the chair, heading towards the stairs. Seungmin, however, didn’t make it in time – he was a step away from the temporary cure or, at least, the easiest way to make the wound heal up. Felix didn’t give Seungmin this opportunity, because he grasped his wrist.

“Please, hear me out.” begged him Felix with two eyes that were supposed to be supplicant, but that at Seungmin’s eyes appeared only lingering, hypocritical. Seungmin was in the right position to say no, decline, turn his back and return to his safe routine after the reprieve. Instead, he let his arm loosen at Felix’s touch, consenting once more at his request. Seungmin nodded, going back to his sit, “I beg you.”

“Hurry up, though. I don’t have all day.” asserted Seungmin, drawing circles on the bottom of the bowl with a green plastic teaspoon.

“Yeah, right.” agreed Felix, as if he had noticed just in that moment the strange environment between them, “I wish I could say this with a light heart and, truthfully, I don’t even know why I decided to tell you. I saw you walking towards the venue and I just- it was the moment.”

“You followed me?”

“It wasn’t intentional, you’re literally the only person I know who comes here. It’s not about that, by the way.”

“What’s the matter, then?”

Felix sighed, looking away. Seungmin tilted his head, had he missed something?, “I’ve always been far from good at school, so you can imagine how could I ever be when I was at high school. On the other hand, I’ve never encountered a single problem in making friends and I met people I really wish I hadn’t. I’m not saying it’s their fault, not completely, at least.”

“What does that mean?” Seungmin asked again, kind of annoyed by that scrappy monologue.

“Let me finish” responded the other, “During the junior year, this girl arrived in our school. I still remember her name, Kim Phuong. If I recall well her dad was from Vietnam. Pretty similar to the story of that statue you like, isn’t it?” giggled Felix slightly, perhaps in order to take the edge off.

“ _Felix_ , I don’t have all day.”

“So, she was really good at drawing. Basically she was good at everything, I gotta admit. At the same time I, I didn’t care about anything that sorrounded me. School was a boring place to attend for seven hours a day, classes were full of meaningless words and… I guess I wanted to punch the world right in the face, I’m not sure.” sighed he, “I was bored, unhappy with what I was getting through. My friends were as well. And… Phuong was so shy, timid, closed in a bubble of innocence, drawings and study.”

“I don’t get you.”

“The thing is… We thought why shouldn’t we have some fun with her? At the start, I didn’t care. It was all about commenting acidly her works, making fun of her. Somehow, it was filling my life and, of course, my ego. I remember asking myself if I needed so little to feel strong, did I?” he took a deep breath, “That was, until the Friday that’s still stuck in my mind arrived. Phuong used to arrive very early, she lived nearby the school. That morning, I arrived thirty minutes before the bell, I wanted some time alone. I didn’t expect to see her alone. Doing what she was doing.”

A cold shiver ran through Seungmin’s shoulder, he swallowed, “What was she.. doing?”

“She was tearing her own works. I didn’t get into the classroom, luckily. But the door was open and from the outside I could see and hear her. At first it didn’t even hurt much, I didn’t have anything I loved as much as she loved art, then…” Felix kept on talking while Seungmin was thinking about how people can be there at the wrong time. He pictured the frame of he at the bathroom door, Felix washing his makeup away. The reality is that we want to be alone during our most intimate moments, thereby was he Felix’s wrong time? If he was, Felix was indeed his, too. As he noticed the young man was still speaking, Seungmin decided to pay attention again.

“I’m not completely sure whether, with time, I learnt how to deal well with it. You know, I’ve been wondering for a long time about what was the best way to get through it; it was never forget it, admit I was and am a parasite, be still me so that the print will never fade. Living stuck in that damn Friday. But..”

“But?”

“I got scared when you were right in front of me, leaving.”

Seungmin tsked, “C’mon, why did you?”

“I saw her in your eyes. I’m still the same.”

“Felix, what do you want to do?” asked he again, “You told me this story but, for God’s sake, what’s the point? Do you know what you want? It looks like you’re acting by istinct, at some point you gotta choose. Past or present. I’ve, I’ve been hurt too, okay? I’ve been hurt by undecided, empty, mean people before I met you. It was hard being a kid with those extra fifteen, twenty kilos. It was hard listening to people’s jokes, boredom, or whatever you call it. It filled their boredom, hm? But do you know what does disappoint me the most? You people are all the same, you’re all the same! You can’t take a decision at fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, and you can’t make a decision at twenty. I’m not gonna tell you how I looked at myself, how I looked at the food for years and how I _had to_ change and be strong and create a new Seungmin, you wouldn’t understand, you people. Felix, let me tell you something: too late is too late.”

Seungmin breathed those words, he didn’t know how; it was like he ran out of air, his entire body was shaking, his hands as well. And looking at them, he feared that his wounded heart would have damaged him forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> school started this week but i'm alive, y'all !! hope you're doing fine and taking care of yourself,, i gotta say this chapter is kinda personal so i'm v v excited to know what you think of it >:( i always look forward to your opinions !!! i leave you my [curious cat](https://curiouscat.me/writinghwang) but if you prefer you can just comment <33 have a nice week !!


	19. Moving on

“Thanks for, uh, giving me a lift.” Jeongin mumbled, as he buckled up. The sun emaneted a dim light, the sky painting himself with warm colours, while it was crashing with the dying day. Jeongin hadn’t spoken for awhile and thought the moment arrived to open his mout not to seem rude. For a bit, he looked around his roommate’s car. It was kind of old – Jeongin hoped it wouldn’t have stopped, the last thing he needed was dropping by the mechanic, but internally it almost seemed new for how clean it was. On the outside, finding a space not smashed was a miracle. Jeongin tried not to show his internal worries, although Changbin said right away he wasn’t a great driver. The young man gulped, by then he was screwed.

The old greyish car didn’t cushion well the impact with the street, so the ride had been pretty similar to going on a roller coaster or jumping up and down, “No worries. ‘Didn’t have anything better to do on Saturday night.” said Changbin, laughing at his own joke. It wasn’t funny for real, Jeongin giggled not to make the conversation awkward.

Truthfully, Jeongin wasn’t processing the events that had led him into Changbin’s car. At night. Two days before his not-as-crucial-as-latin-translation latin literature exam. He had to be out of his mind, a side effect of poring over books all day long. It could be only Changbin’s fault. He had done nothing. He was memorising the works of Horace, when Changbin unlocked the door, re-locked the door, went to the bathroom, got out of the bathroom, opened their shared closet, changed shirt and plugged in his mobile phone next to Jeongin’s book. Which got him raising his head and an eyebrow, looking suspiciously at the other, who minded only to show his car keys, “You said you were in the mood for burgers.”- and that’s how they ended up eating at a fast food.

It was true. Jeongin was craving to talk to him. Yet, he was managing admirably it all, that he even considered the idea of forgetting Hyunjin and with him three facts: first of all, the fact that they were becoming friends; second of all, the fact that he had, God forgive him, gave to him his beloved bracelet and third of all, the fact that Hyunjin had kissed him. At the thought, instantly his lips burnt as if he had eaten too much chili. Ironically, it was the reason why Jeongin came up with that absolutely disastrous plan.

He and Changbin were sitting at the table of a fast food out of town. The venue was quite crowded; families with children eating at laughing around them, kids playing with the surprise included with their meal, then small circles of friends enjoying french fries and a coke in a filthy burger bar. Facing him, Changbin was sipping some of his milkshake, even without mumbling. Crambles dirtying the dish up, Jeongin hadn’t still finished his hambuger. He took a bite, crashing with a pungent flavour. It was at half of his meal, but only then he recalled what it reminded him. Changbin and he exchanged a glance, for a little it felt like Changbin was reading him. They hadn’t known each other for long, still his gaze was way similar to the one Minho used to give him. Jeongin took a sip of his water, deciding what to do as his throat was cooling down; that rushed kiss tasted the same as pepperoni on his mouth. If he only asked Changbin, he could give him some answers. It wasn’t the right person; despite he knew perfectly Hyunjin, Jeongin knew as well there was something going on in his head, making him tremble, look absurd and… not the Hyunjin he knew, he hadn’t met him for awhile, “Do you where Hyunjin is?”

Jeongin found out Hyunjin’s home was on the way of the fast food. The route was quiet, between the leaps caused by Changbin’s car, Jeongin thought of the night in which he was the one behind the wheel, watching over Hyunjin without he could notice. It made no sense. Chasing for him made no sense, they were playing cops and robbers again. By contrast, this time there was just Jeongin running towards who knows what, he had no idea of where Hyunjin could be hiding. No, that round wasn’t amusing. The car stopped abruptly.

“We’re here.” claimed Changbin, shifting his gaze from the street, “The house number should be 35.”

Jeongin gulped, “I gotta break into his home? Out of nowhere? No, listen, I can’t do that. I can’t.”

“Jeongin? What so terrible has happened?”

Seeking for answers, he forgot he had himself some answers people didn’t know anything about. He casted out his own response every time it was too hard to handle. Probably Changbin knew everything, why was he asking him that? “Hyunjin hasn’t told you anything?” the other shook his head, whereas Jeongin nodded in acknowledgment. That gesture, it pulled him stepping back. He had to, although he had no clue about what was going to happen. Jeongin didn’t know what his purpose was, what was he expecting? Perhaps, just Hyunjin coming back into his life. “I guessed so.”

Jeongin opened the car door, getting out, “35 you said, didn’t you?” his right hand leaning against the door, so that he could lower his head to talk to his roommate eye-to-eye. The elder nodded and Jeongin forced a little smile.

At that hour, people were already sleeping. No windows enlightened by a warm bulb, no dogs roaming around the garden, children playing hide-and-seek, no elders enjoying the dawn or mowing the lawn. It was just him, Jeongin. It was just him, Jeongin, sorrounded by white fences, empty roads and an acquaintance who was getting further and further every step he made. He walked through the avenue of identical houses, lighted up only by occasional streetlights, beneath which minuscule gnats flew around the enchanting light and the dumpsters. There, Jeongin stopped; he worked up the courage clinging to his own jumper, as if a cold shiver had caught him unprepared – the number 35 was there, but Jeongin didn’t know if it was his place.

He stared Hyunjin’s home, there were a fence, a garden and a wall separating them. Jeongin was extremely close to his goal, yet his feet were stuck on the sidewalk, the sleeves of the jumper were frantically covering the palms of his hands; his throat was drying, how would have been the impact? Brusque, pushy or calm, comforting? How much did he want to discover? Why was he shaking like a leaf if he was the one who craved for that?

A blinding flare appeared from an open door. The figure was unrecognisable, against the light it seemed completely black. The will of finding out was stronger than the one of running away, so he stayed right where he was, waiting for them to draw closer. No, it wasn’t a them. It was Hyunjin, Jeongin recognised him in a jiffy. He was holding a garbage bag, he looked tired; maybe, it was just the time. The elder surpassed the fence, Jeongin could see his face so clearly. Almost in contrast with the person he had met nights ago, Hyunjin seemed so real. It wasn’t a fever dream, a fleeting moment of a rush, he was standing there. No filters, no alcohol saving them for the truth. It was them. Only them.

“Hyunjin” began Jeongin, his voice shaking, not actually knowing where to start. His mid-length hair closed in a low bun, a t-shirt ruined by the time, a pair of shorts and a pair of too big flip flops. Something about him was unforseen, Jeongin had never seen Hyunjin that way. He looked fragile, as if he could destroy him by holding him in a fist. The young man wondered whether the other was comfortable in seeing him like that, “Hyunjin” he repeated, altough the buzzing of the insects was louder than his voice.

“Jeongin, what are you doing here?” his tone wasn’t worried, nor interested, nor pleased. It sounded apathetic, Hyunjin was always so full of emotions. It took Jeongin aback, the Hyunjin in front of him was completely different from the Hyunjin he learnt to be friends with. He should’ve had it coming.

“We.. we should talk about it.” he mumbled, under the gaze of the other. What was he doing, uh? Calling the kiss it? Was it a method for swallowing the bitter medicine quickly? _It._ A good way to let him understand what he was meaning, without actually telling him. How can emotions make someone so craven?

“Now?” asked he rhetorically, almost huffy. Jeongin scratched his neck, he perceived Hyunjin wasn’t pleasing his presence. Meanwhile, the latter threw the garbage bag into the can, then he tried to warm himself up caressing his arms. It was june, but still a bit cold at night, “As you like, chop-chop!”

Although he nodded, Jeongin needed more time – he needed to find the right words, put in the right order, said with the right flow, the right tempo. The words he thought blossomed from his lungs (each breath coincided to a sentence, as though breathing was nothing but an hilarious circumstance to let them grow) and climbed the strenuous stairs of his throat; it needed patience, it needed a gaze focused on the cement of the sidewalk, a mouth that attempted to bubble up internal wishes, his fingers cracking. Instead, Hyunjin was grandly implying he wanted to get rid of him as speedily as possible. Instantly, Jeongin absurdly felt relieved he hadn’t to face it again through two blue ticks on a display.

The elder sighed, looking away, “So what?” the arms crossed, the foot tapping. Jeongin wondered what he could have ever done to make someone this upset. His bright, kind eyes were dull, disheartened; selfishly, he didn’t accept being the cause of it, he didn’t want to be the cause of it. Then, he wondered why he should ever be the reason. Hyunjin had decided to run away, and it was his choice. Period. All he was doing was asking for an explanation.

“I, uh… Do you remember when we met at Chan’s goodbye party?” internally, he wished he hadn’t. It would have preserved Jeongin hoping – he didn’t even know what he was wishing for – everything would have turned for good. Hyunjin traits would have softened, his arms wouldn’t have been anymore a sort of protection from him, and they would have had all the time in the world.

Hyunjin frowned, “Of course I do, you walked me to the dorm.”

“Hm, I guess you remember…”

“That’s what is giving you nightmares?” bursted he into a little laugh, both surprised and weirded out, “Jeongin, we all get drunk sometimes. Get over it.”

 _Get over it._ It hurt more than expected, because Hyunjin wasn’t only trampling on him – who did care? In the end, the body is a bunch of flesh! Hyunjin… Hyunjin was as well stepping on the nerve impulses that got his lips burning at a delicate contact, his hands slightly shaking and his heart looking for him when he wasn’t there. Hyunjin wasn’t drawing a line under a kiss, he was crossing a line between them. A insurmountable boundary line. The fear of losing him was way bigger than having his throat dry.

Without even noticing, Jeongin had already lost him.

“But you, you kissed me!” exclaimed he then, as if it could have taken Hyunjin to realisation.

“And then? I was out of line.” yeah, he literally was. For a second, he overrode the line, just so he could have a peek and then he pulled back. Whatever the nature of his growing feelings was, Hyunjin rejected them. “What hell were you thinking?” he sighed, “Uh, it’s late. Maybe you should head back to the dorm and, you know, move on with your life.”

That sudden uncertainty made Jeongin turning back to reality; it was late at night, they were beside a smelly dumpster, under the light of a streetlight and surrounded by annoying gnats. There was nothing crucial, remarkable, magical or special about it. Solely two young men speaking. Who was pretending the most?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey friends!! how've you been doing? i think i said last time school started in my country and i already got kinda stressed, pls send love :(( however, hope you've liked this chapter!!! let me know what you think in the comments below or on [curious cat](https://curiouscat.me/writinghwang) , love you and take care!!


	20. Boring normality

When you tear up a paper, moving onto the next one is not a whim, rather an urge. Jisung came to that conclusion approximately a month after Minho had broken up with him. One night he and Seungmin spent together, he realised he shouldn’t stay stuck in the past.

Seungmin was a good roommate. Sadly, although Jisung knew he was friends with his ex boyfriend, they had never actually become more than simple cohabiting. In fact, he used to imagine his and Minho’s life strongly interlaced, of course, but also divided, as if their respective friendships were none of their business.

However, he and Seungmin got on pretty well, despite all the chaos they encountered along the road. They didn’t use to spend much time together, apart from keeping each other company whenever they were in the room at the same time. That night, something changed when Seungmin looked up from his telephone, asking Jisung whether he could, _please_ , buy some snacks to eat together – “and don’t forget Coolies!”.

Seungmin was indeed a good roommate. He was, whilst Jisung, at times, had the impression his peer was a bit too secretive and cold. Probably, it was because their bond wasn’t as deep as it could be; therefore, his amazement was solely needed. Seungmin had never before suggested such occasions of conviviality, and deep down he understood where it came from. So, he shrugged and even before understanding himself, he was already a ounce ahead the past. Not a revolution, but still it had been the second time he decided to tear up a paper that contained the word Minho for one night.

Then, there was Hyunjin. His friendship had been like a windfall. One thing you’re most scared of when you’re left alone is to feel lonely, and with a friend like Hyunjin it was nearly impossible. When Jisung was out of his room, spending the whole day with Hyunjin was essentialy assured.

One day Hyunjin waited for him outside the classroom of Radiobiology, which wasn’t totally out of the ordinary. “I wanna introduce you to someone”, announced he as he started running towards the unknown. A bit astouned, Jisung put better his backpack on his shoulder and, careful not to make the books he was holding fall down, he chased for him. At times, he didn’t know how Hyunjin was. Well, what he showed off was sincere, true; the way he wrapped his arm friendly around his shoulder after he’d made a joke, it couldn’t be a lie. Yet, sometimes the laughter broke off and imagining what he was thinking was incomprehensible. Left alone, Hyunjin withdrew like a sponge.

Jisung followed him, until they were both at the centre of a garden. The weeping willow. Hyunjin was catching his breath, as his hands were resting on his kneels. Jisung had heard of that weeping willow during a lunch with Minho, he thoughtlessly told him that Seungmin would always bring Jeongin there to study, afterwards he explained he preferred not to go with them because staying under the light of the sun would have only worsened his headache. For that reason and because he wasn’t likely to spend much time outside, Jisung had never paid close attention to the tree. Up to when Hyunjin led him there again. It was night, the two of them sharing pieces of their lives; Hyunjin’s head on his lap, warming up even more an evening in June. Looking back, he didn’t feel at ease with that memory. Probably, Hyunjin did either, even if he couldn’t know why. He recalled Minho’s friend, Jeongin, approaching with tired eyes and a bag that was wider than his waist, gazing them – he wasn’t focusing on him, he was focusing on Hyunjin for some reason. Jisung looked down at his new friend, who seemed to have notice the youngest. The laughter, in that moment, broke off and Hyunjin turned his head towards Jisung’s body. On the other hand, Jeongin got past them, sitting on the other side of the willow. Jisung and Hyunjin had never breathed a word about it.

“What’s wrong?” Hyunjin asked, composing himself. Perhaps, he noticed Jisung had spaced out.

“Uh? No, nothing.” muttered he. His friend nodded, inviting him to follow once more his lead.

Often, we don’t see when _something_ is about two happen. There are two options: feel it when we’re getting through it or realising it just after. Most of the times, it’s the second one. To Jisung, it had been both.

Hyunjin brought him to the dormitory, leading him to a room next to his. Within, he found a young man who could’ve been their age, that seemed he’d been waiting for them for long. “Chan’s almost done with luggage? Not that he had much to pack.” observed Hyunjin, looking around an almost empty room.

“Almost, he’s freaking out. Don’t tell him, though.” said the stranger, who also seemed being pretty close with his friend, “By the way, you have them, right?”

The black haired boy grabbed from his pocket a flash drive, “All party’s photos are there. It should be simple get them printed, choose the best ones.” then, he threw at him the flash drive, “I know I’m like two months late but, you know, people are busy, Changbin.”

“Busy flirting with Jeongin or?” the other giggled, even though the grin soon disappeared from his face, “Nevermind, it wasn’t even funny.”

Hyunjin seemed sighing in relief, “Oh, I got someone with me today. Jisung, that’s Changbin and, hm, Changbin that’s the friend I told you about last time.”

That was the moment. To be accurate, the minute. It started from that line and it lasted untile they shook their hands. Seo Changbin, a name a little echoing among the walls of the college, but that Jisung had never got to know. Before _the_ minute, at least. If he had to be honest, Jisung found out that Changbin was completely different to Minho. They were two different worlds. Day and night, yet it looked like Jisung could get along with them both.

Another rip.

If before it was he and Hyunjin, occasionally some Changmin and Felix, after that day it was Jisung, Hyunjin and Changbin. Weeks weren’t weeks, but entire years. Days were months and hours were a whole eternity. It was good. He got out of his room, didn’t open his diares (they could be just a chance to dwell on his own loss), hang out at night, had fun with an extra drink – just like Hyunjin had thaught him. The three of them was a blessing Jisung couldn’t believe.

Then, Hyunjin left. Leaving a confused message, Jisung acknowledged he needed some time alone to reflect. He didn’t know what it was about, despite he had a slight a idea of the situation he had caught himself in.

So, there was Changbin. After Hyunjin came back home for awhile, Changbin, somehow, took him under his wing. He loved the way it felt like. It was nothing comparable to what he felt whenever he was alone with Hyunjin, it was… different. The desire of being loved was so strong that he thought he could keep on sip that sweet wine. Everytime Changbin tidied up his hair from his forehead, or gave him a peck on his cheek as a goodbye, or each small, even tiny attention Changbin reserved to him. Their chemistry was unexpected, but delightful. A little weight fell from Jisung’s shoulder, when he was with Changbin.

There was no embarrass, nor awkwardness. He liked the way things went, how easy it was to lean his head on his shoulder, or giggle a breathe away from the other’s tip of the nose. No pressure, no constrictions nor laws. Jisung could be whoever he wanted to be, whenever he wanted. Freedom, he discovered how it felt like. No chains, Jisung had forgotten it.

“When is he coming back, though?” asked Jisung, sitting on the other bed of Changbin’s new room. Right after Hyunjin took a break, Changbin moved to another room. It was him and Jeongin, apparently.

“Hyunjin or Jeongin? He’s at the library studying, I guess he needed some peace.” responded he, showing off a smile. That kind of interaction, Jisung adored.

“Are you driving him mad already? Poor guy” laughed Jisung, as he was watching Changbin sitting next to him, “Despite how sorry I can be for Jeongin, I was talking about Hyunjin.”

“Really? I don’t think you hate me so much.” _he didn’t_ , “Hyunjin should be back in a few days, actually. He needed some rest, but he still must work on this project he doesn’t want to tell me anything about.” he sighed, “Photographers are the worst kind of people.”

“They say so. But what happened to Hyunjin? I mean he went home, I don’t know, very suddenly.”

Changbin shrugged, “People need to switch off.”

Jisung couldn’t let his eyes off of him, confounding feelings with infatuation, mistaking a love song with the bark of dogs. But who the hell has told you need a song to talk about love? Their soap bubble enclosed them perfectly, maybe a bit narrow – still perfect. Perfect for his arms to stop on Changbin’s, constrincting him to create a deal (let’s stay like this), a well accepted deal (can I caress your cheek?), silent words that didn’t escaped from the cage of their mouths, but that found a way to arrive safe and sound to the other person; their effervescent eyes, challenging the space between them and coming together in a tight hug. A giggle came along from the both of them, as if that space was too much to stand. Their hands didn’t move, though.

With a fast movement, Jisung found his head touching the mattress. Changbin on the top of him, their breaths getting warmer, the tips of their nose almost touching. Let’s stay like this. Changbin’s hand was again on his cheek, whereas, instead, Jisung’s hands were touching the other’s waist. What was happening? He wished he had known. Nevertheless, as long as he was feeling something more, it was okay.

Changbin moved away Jisung’s hair that were obstructing his sight, “You wanna have fun, don’t you?”

Can I caress your cheek?

Jisung nodded, a perpetual smile on his visage. What came along was an intense kiss, Jisung wondered when it was the last time he had kissed someone and the way it tasted. A thought kicked in. The last person he had kissed was Minho and, by then, his lips were intertwined with someone else. The point of detachment was stark, cut off by a knife. Jisung didn’t want it to be that way, almost regretting the brave laughter that came out when he had realised their kiss was going deeper. His mind didn’t picture Minho’s face as they kissed, again, again, again. Flaps of skin matching as they were one body, layers of garments reminding them the huge difference between belonging and longing for affection.

* * *

“Welcome back.” said Changmin, letting in Hyunjin. He stretched his legs, as he was reappropriating his room. Nothing had changed since he left. He dropped off badly his luggage on the floor, walking past Changmin in order to check the status of his plants. His roommate giggled, “Man, it’s okay. They’re all still alive.”

“Just… checking.” claimed he, tasting the earth to see if it wasn’t too dry, “You don’t really have a green thumb, _bro._ ” he wrinkled then, “You did a good job, though.”

At odds with June’s weather, that day was uncommonly mild. Usually, Hyunjin would sigh at the marked 31°C and at the perceived 46°C, instead, that morning, he encountered a weak breeze. He didn’t almost die from the heat on the bus (one day he would have gotten his driver license, he swore) and he, neither, had to gather his hair into a ponytail not to let his sweat fall on his face. He was relieved, as much as wished he had been to return at the dormitory. His project was calling, so he had to take that bus and keep on going.

Those days, estranged from everything and everyone, had been the thing that could ever happen to Hyunjin. In a safe haven he was, nobody could stab him in the chest, the days were long as the summer days between the end of a school year and the beginning of another one. His mum telling him to eat more vegetables, his dad watching Sportgenix, he split on the couch, letting the television cutting his face in two parts: boring normality.

“I didn’t win the competition Plants kingdom at elementary school for nothing, second place.” joked Changmin, patting proudly on his chest.

Slowly, even that had become normality, a normality out of place, outlined and a little clumsy. A normality that, as a matter of fact, could be suitable for him; he had his own kind of independence, his friends and a passion that had all the possibilities to become his job. Hyunjin fitted exemplarily in that life.

“Out of?”

“Three.”

“Fair enough.”

But that it didn’t mean he belonged to it. The stomach unsettled, Hyunjin not able to sigh a word that could leak out the truth. Hyunjin standing there as the world was spinning around dizzily. _Boring normality, boring normality, boring normality, please come back to me._ Silently wishing for the time to roll up like a filmstrip, Hyunjin pretended it was all suiting him.

“How-ever” changed subject Changmin, spelling out the adverb, “How are you?”

Hyunjin placed the vase he was holding on the windowsill, “Good, I guess. At least, refreshed enough to prepare this damn exam.”

“Is it taking so long?”

“Indeed, projects are pretty long to get done, especially this one.”internally, he was relieved, he had feared Changmin would have asked inappropriate questions. For a moment, talking about photography had made him forget why he’d been in need of that foolish monotony. He kneeled on his bed, stretching out to rip a photo from the wall.

“Hyunjin…” began his friend, but the younger quickly rose his hand at him, “Hyunjin, for real…”

“What’s up?” sighed finally he, annoyed. The water falling from the drinking fountain in the photo was still as freezing cold as he had told him to be. It was all so wrong about it. Heart, heart, heart and the way it would have been better if it hadn’t been essential to live.

“This isn’t good for you.” responded Changmin, soft-spoken, “You know that, right?”

“What should I do, then? I come back and find out nothing’s changed.” abasament was taking the place of a well-pretended anger; Hyunjin allowed himself to take off his suffocating plastic wrap, just so it was enough to uncover his head.

“How many times have I to remind you? Going away won’t solve your problems unless you change yourself, too.” Hyunjin hated the gaze Changmin was giving him, as if he truly loved him, as if he was his friend and did care about him. Hyunjin hated that kind of gaze on himself, it felt like he was disappointing him. Why couldn’t he just choke with his own plastic? “Changbin has told me Jeongin has his exam today, probably right now.”

“Believe me, it’s not about him”

“Whatever this is about” silenced he him, “Get over it, get your priorities straight.” it was definitely worse being told to get over it. Hyunjin was looked down at his thighs, sitting on his kneels, still holding the photo he had taken at the amusement park, “Hm?”

Hyunjin nodded, because he wasn’t able to take a proper decision yet. They walked down the stairs, getting quickly through the campus. Changmin was by his side, more secure than him on what they were about to do.

Hyunjin wasn’t ready to stick his neck out. Hyunjin realised that at the edge of the long, sun-drenched hallway of the college where Jeongin had reasonedly taken his exam. He realised that when Jeongin was out of the classroom, talking with another young man who seemed to be a friend of his.

Hyunjin wasn’t ready to stick his neck out. And even if he had been, it wouldn’t have been the moment. It wasn’t the moment to break his coveted, fragile normality – he had put way too much dedication into it to get it shattered in a minute or two. Hyunjin turned his back, before Jeongin could perceive his presence.

_Boring normality, boring normality! Please, please, come back… Don’t ever leave me._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here we are!! how are you? i can't believe that's already chapter 20:( please, if u feel like it'd be /so/ nice of you to tell me what you think about the story so far, it's so important to me:(( you can write to me on [cc](https://curiouscat.me/writinghwang) (it's super dry jdjhdj) or just comment below!! i do appreciate everything!! thank you so so much for reading, take care!!<3


	21. Reset

When Jisung had sent him a text message telling him “Let’s meet for a snack at 6:30 pm. There’s Changbin.”, Hyunjin was at the studio trying to remember how the software of photo editing worked and he didn’t care much of the cryptic message he had received. For that day, it was enough. He had been spending a hard afternoon composing lights, assepting tables, fake food, vases and even miniatures. Truthfully, he hadn’t missed following step by step the handbook in order to compose and prepare a shoot set, but he couldn’t deny he had missed working so hard on something whose love was equal to the fatigue he experienced.

Not considering the summer break, there was only a month and a half left before his exposition. And Hyunjin still had an enormous bunch of things to get done, starting from the last frames, ending with the editing and the printing. It was barely impossible to finish, the whole project required an amount of work way bigger than the simple photographing and transferring the photos onto a flash drive. Furthermore, all of the exercises at the studio were taking him away the time he could’ve used working on his project. It was even forbidden prepare the presentation on a shoot set. Artitsts and their mania to re-invent everything that can be re-invented.

Hyunjin didn’t displease that, though. To him, it was more natural – like he wasn’t turning his passion into a job, but it was still purely a hobby he adored. Instead, the shoot set was a brand new place he had to get used to. Again, setting lights, arrange the centre of the picture, capturing the instant self-consciously. Hyunjin was deeply intrigued by that, although it was nothing similar to the days spent taking some self-care photos. Don’t get it wrong, it wasn’t bad at all what he was learning to do; still, at some point a so strict structure of photography made Hyunjin miss when he was completely guided by his own inspiration.

After an exhausting afternoon like that one, Hyunjin exited from the laboratory right on time. Jisung hadn’t spelled out where they were meeting, because he already knew it. He came by the room to plug in the batteries of his camera and change clothes, then he ran until he reached the café they would often go to.

It was under the cover of the porch in the city centre, tables on the wide sidewalk made of marble and granite. The days were getting longer. In fact, at an hour that usually brought darkness on the sky, the sun was slowly disappearing from people’s sight, letting visible only a warm, soft pink light. Hyunjin glimpsed his friends at the edge of the porch, sitting on the table at the extremity of the group. From afar, Hyunjin waved his hand to draw the attention of Changbin and Jisung, who waved back. He got past the tables full of people and chatter and then he sat by the table with Changbin and Jisung.

“Sorry for being late, I’ve been staying at the shoot set all afternoon” greeted he, sitting on the only chair left, “Have you waited for long? I, I tried to text you but, believe me, I’ve been kind busy.”

Jisung bursted into laugh, covering his mouth with a hand, “Don’t worry, you’re not even five minutes late.”

Even though the table was circular, Hyunjin noticed how it seemed he was at the head of the table, since the seats of his friends were close enough to make the distance glaring. Both of their lower arms were leaning on the armrests, their elbows slightly into contact. A laid down deal Hyunjin knew little about. He shrugged, he’d been late: of course they sat next to each other, “What will you have?”

Changbin looked behind him, on the reddish wall where upon there was hung the price list. His eyes went up and down, checking every line of the menu, “I’ll have a caramel macchiato.” claimed he, adjusting himself on the chair.

“Same here.” said Jisung, raising his hand for no reason.

“At 6:30? Will you guys sleep tonight?”

“A bit of coffee and milk never killed somebody.” replied Changbin, as if it was his mantra, “So” he then switched subject, “You’re completing your super top secret work, aren’t you?”

Hyunjin sighed, “Kind of. Let’s say I’m trying, the death line is frighteningly near and, well, I still gotta practice at the shoot set, print the best ones, come up with a speech to expose but in the end there isn’t much left.”

“You aren’t gonna tell us what this will be about.” stated Jisung, all of a sudden extremely curious.

“Never.” said Hyunjin sadistically cheerful, being careful to emphatize the lip movement. Initially, he kept it as a secret because he didn’t know himself how the whole draft was ending up being. With time, however, it got clearer; it was shaping up. Thereby, Hyunjin carried on keeping it locked tight. Artists are superstitious, so was he. Watching it taking form was a source of pride, yet the long (and needed) time sometimes laid him low, it felt like it was never ever ending – an endless vicious circle.

Naturally, Changbin and Jisung gave up on asking him something more right away. The air was unexpectedly cold, heavy to manage; usually, whenever they meet Hyunjin felt comfortable, in the right place, at the right time. Weirdly, all at once he perceived something was wrong, but he couldn’t tell what – if it came about himself or the two of them.

Still, their date proceeded for the best. They had their respective orders, Jisung shared his mishaps dated back when “I came home from elementary school, after waiting for me there was the latest episode of Layton Clayton. Life was simple”, Changbin came up with his sarcastic, almost sharping jokes, whereas every now and then Hyunjin interacted in the current conversation even as, most of the time, he just stayed there watching them persueing their chat without even spotting his absence.

He wasn’t used to examine every details (from a movement, to a subtle sentence) between them. In his defense, not seeing it was very tough; he remembered how Changbin and Jisung would interact, blatant was the difference. It was like they had gotten to know each other in a matter of days, Hyunjin was missing something. Someway, he believed it was tightly interlaced between them two only.

“Honestly, I like Seungmin being my roommate.” when Hyunjin stopped overthinking, the current centre of conversation were their roommates, “Yeah, everyone’s got their flaws but, mh, I suppose our relationship just got better after…” Jisung chopped off insecure, probably not knowing how to continue the phrase, “Nevermind.”

“Well, you’re right.” Changbin readily said, playing dumb, “There’s, like, a point in which you get on well with them all of a sudden. You feel they trust you and that you trust them, too.”

“I should thank Jeongin for that day.” observed Jisung laughing, the back of his hand on Changbin’s chest, “I definitely should… By the way, how’s he doing? I heard from Seungmin he already hunkered down with revising, that man’s crazy. He lives for studying.”

Hearing Jeongin’s name, Hyunjin looked away, since he couldn’t avoid his friends’ voices; he wished his heart had ceased to accelerate. On the other hand, Changbin sighed, as if he was searching for the right way to put into words his thoughts, “Generally, he’s doing fine. I’ve seen him down in the dumps today, he might be kinda tired. He’s freaking out with study, no wonder he could be stressed.”

“You two seem pretty relaxed, instead.” added Hyunjin, not thinking about any of the words he had said. Instantly, everyone’s gazes were on him: lawful, he hadn’t talked much since he had arrived. “Uh, I, I mean it’s good. I was, hm, pointing out.”

“Hey, calm down. We aren’t saying anything, you just haven’t been as talkative as you usually are. That’s it.” Changbin had the power of put anyone at ease, it was extremely coherent with the outgoing person he was. He could read people, Hyunjin assumed at some stage. “Are you okay?” the young man didn’t bother replying. Changbin sighed again, “Hyunjin, if you don’t open up, you’ll never heal.”

“I’m okay, got that?” blurted it out Hyunjin, irked, “I’m, Gosh, I’m not hiding anything.” whined he.

“Then why did you have a break? Why are you acting so misleading? You must talk, Hyunjin…” Changbin’s eyes were begging him, but Hyunjin hadn’t enough courage to look at them, “Trust me.”

“There’s nothing to say! I already had this talk with Changmin, I know where you’re going with this.”

“Where, then?” Changbin and Jisung exchanged a long glare, something that didn’t flee to Hyunjin. Seeing that, it just hurt more. He wasn’t able to have that, whatever it was. And he wished he hadn’t known where those sentences were leading him.

“I… know where, don’t worry.”

“For real, do you ever tell me something?”

“How about you!? Can you decide where to stand? Is it too hard?”

“Oh, you’re speaking like you haven’t hurt anyone. I’m telling you this because your words do have a weight, do you know how Jeongin felt that night? You must talk to people, but you keep on avoiding them… Why?” Changbin’s voice and features softened as he finished talking. Everytime someone was trying to draw closer, Hyunjin felt the instinct of going away.

“Look, I have never treated someone badly. Sooner or later you understand where you finish and start the other person, do you see that?” he didn’t, “If I don’t find myself with someone any more, there’s nothing wrong in looking for someone else. I’ve never tricked Felix, if you’re asking. And you? What game are you playing?”

Out of the blue, it was all crystal clear. From the message he’d been sent by Jisung, to the weird, new interactions between them. Hyunjin and Changbin had never needed more words to understand each other, moreover the frigthened gaze of Jisung was shouting loudly. Hyunjin was sure.

“Hyunjin, you know I love you, but you aren’t solving anything this way. I’m right here, for God’s sake.” Hyunjin pressed his lips together and swallowed, as once more he realised he wasn’t ready to deal with himself.

* * *

oHyunjin kept on working at the studio for the following days. He even found some free time to go around and take photos. For most of the time, he’d been alone, but he couldn’t deny he enjoyed it a little. Although he had to work hard for, basically, all day, he didn’t mind. It was keeping his mind busy, concentrating on something he loved. However, the little argument he and Changbin had few days earlier was stuck on his mind. When he packed his stuff, ready to have a rest at the dorm, or when he was quickly eating before going to the shoot set, or when he was scrolling through the timeline of his social medias, the words Changbin had said dropped in.

Without any doubt, he felt confused. He didn’t know what should be his next play. If he came to terms with his return to reality, he couldn’t say the same regarding Jeongin.

Jeongin.

Along with Changbin’s argument, Jeongin’s harsh speech was stuck on his mind as well. He tried not to think about him, he lived better like that. Still, Jeongin was included in their daily life, even if indirectly, only through fast discussions. Hyunjin knew how it felt when they were friends. Hyunjin learnt to love Jeongin’s presence. If he had to be honest, he loved it even before Jeongin could stand him. Perhaps, it was the main reason which brought him still wearing the bracelet. Life gambles. Indeed.

There was something of unsolved about him. And it wasn’t only about his little habits that looked like having no nature, it was about Jeongin himself. Hyunjin, someway, wanted to know more but… he couldn’t afford it. He loved having Jeongin around, as much as he loved finishing a tough day and finding him under the habitual weeping willow. He loved those stupid conversations, tattling for hours. Then, there were the serious moments. Handling them was difficult. Hyunjin had to be strong while he had no idea if he was. He had pushed for getting to know him and when Jeongin was getting closer, Hyunjin pulled back. The way he had got attached to him had been abrupt. So, it had to be the moment in which he made the decision of letting go – was he letting Jeongin or himself go? Those questions, if he pretended Jeongin had never been part of his life, didn’t exist.

Reset.

Early in the morning, Hyunjin went to the closest photo studio in order to start priting his album. The night before he managed to gather into one flash drive the first photos of the project, after he had already edited them. That was the first part of the work, he was pretty happy to say he, at least, accomplished that. Consequently, in the morning his eyes were pleading for mercy; because of both the hours spent on the computer and the tiredness. To be not even nine o’clock, the photo studio was quite crowded. In the small shop, the customers were close together like sardine in a can. He heard from people behind him the chaos was caused by the closure of many photo studios in the neighborhood – “I’ve been told photographers aren’t doing very well in this period!”, so the few ones left were flooded. Something common in a big city.

Many people behind him gave up and called it a day even before getting into the shop. That way, in a few minutes the shop wasn’t unutterably crowded. It was when Hyunjin glimpsed him.

Jeongin.

He was picking something up, Hyunjin couldn’t tell what. Briskly, Jeongin made his way out of the studio. Not even the time, for Hyunjin, to decide if to greet him or not. One thing was sure: they looked at each other. Briefly, apparently Jeongin wanted to get of there as soon as possible, but they still did. It was different to the day of his exam; Jeongin was so distant, lost in his own world, whereas Hyunjin was taking advance of it, by turning his back. He hadn’t been able to, this time.

Here it was, the crucial element. Jeongin had eyed him. It was more real, he could almost touch with his finger the palpable truth of it. Reset, reset, reset everything. All of it. From the start. Let’s come back to a easier part of it. Hyunjin realised it wasn’t possible, it was a line closed with ellipsis, but still closed. Therefore, reset didn’t mean turning back, rather stitching up a dress that could suit again the both of them. Eventually, their bond was a piece of a garment from which it was impossible stray.

His turn took longer than expected. The man on his sixties at the desk told him those were _many_ photos and asked him why he needed them for. The conversation persued for endless minutes, at the end of which the man reccomended Hyunjin to come back in a few days and see whether the album was ready.

The first thing Hyunjin noticed as he was out had been Jeongin, sitting by the entrance of the photo studio. He had a rectangular envelope in his hands, some photos leaked out from it. To his detriment, Hyunjin knew Jeongin and was able to tell when something was wrong. In a moment of recklessness, he sat next to him.

“Hey.” finally, Hyunjin greeted with a soft voice. Jeongin had no reaction. “Erm, how are you?”

The younger sniffed, wiping his nose with the wrist of his free hand, “Fine.” then, he licked his lips, “You can go if you don’t wanna stay here, you know?”

“Oh, uh, I’ve nothing to do. It’s okay, for real.” muttered he, looking at the pavement, “What are, hm, like how you-”

“I came here to get some photos, that’s what people do in this kind of places.” also Jeongin’s gaze was fixed ahead of him, perhaps on the running cars or the trees of a near park; his gaze was nil, as if someone had transpired its life blood, “I’m pathetic.”Jeongin’s eyes were protected by a watery cover, making them misty. Eyes whose gaze fell on the freshly printed photos, “I’m so pathetic.” his knees trembling, with no intention to stop.

“Jeongin, you aren’t…” his instinct had been denying, but when he saw the people captured in the photo his doubt prevailed, “You good? What- what happened?” his hand caressing the other’s shoulder, that the younger moved away in a second.

“My mum tied the knot.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh gosh here we are, finally something from hyunjin's prospective !!! how are you those days? online classes suck ikr... i'm sorry for being always a bit late but, again, online classes and school suck so i gotta be 24/7 concentrated on them, hope you're doing well anyways:(( lmk what you think of this chapter/how the story's gone so far, cheer me up!!<3 i leave as always my [curious cat](https://curiouscat.me/writinghwang) and thank you so so much for keeping on reading. have a nice week, ily<3


	22. Can I?

“My mum tied the knot. She got married.” repeated Jeongin, grabbing a photo from the envelope. He handed it to Hyunjin, without looking at him. The picture potrayed Jeongin and his mother in front of a school fence. Hyunjin softened at the sight of it; Jeongin, so little he could be six or seven years old, was wearing a bit large blue tracksuit, on the top of which there was a red jacket with a checked embroidery. Behind him, his mum was kneeling down to arrive at his son’s height – her arms around his shoulder, smiling widely , only her eyes were covered by black, squared sunglasses. “It was my first day of school.” continued he, muttering slightly.

“She’s beautiful.” Hyunjin commented calmly, because he wasn’t aware of what to say in such situations. He thought she was beautiful for real, though. The long, straight black hair was something, Hyunjin acknowledged, Jeongin must have taken from her; the same thin lips, the same cut eye… her traits didn’t move from Jeongin’s visage, but it was like they were when Jeongin, repeatedly, caressed with his thumb his own mother.

“Last time I’ve seen her, she’d cut her hair chin-length. Uh, see her eyelids? Now they’re a bit droopier. For the rest, she’s alike.” Jeogin’s voice was cealing a light pain on the surface, he sighed, “She got married.” at odds, his tone hadn’t even a tiny part of happiness.

Hyunjin’s eyes were stuck on Jeongin. Tears lining his face as a window when it’s raining, tears that weren’t followed by any sob; exclusively, tears running off his sclera, streaming down until they reached his lips – uncommonly wet, and eventually the found a way to escape from the lower lip, falling on the photo without noise. Jeongin sniffed again; this time, Hyunjin didn’t try to reassure him in a non verbal way. “Do you think, like, do you believe you… You wanna talk?”

At those words, Jeongin wiped his tears away, looking at the sky covering their heads. People were passing by the entrance and, from time to time, they had to move a bit to let them get out. The younger wasn’t planning to speak, a quite visible answer that no, he didn’t want to talk. About it, at least.

“The other day” uttered him, then, “I was, I mean, I was doing what I usually do at seven; I was sleeping. And.. You know I can be a very heavy sleeper, right?” Hyunjin nodded, recalling that time they had arranged to have breakfast together before classes, and had to call him several times. All this to find out a still pretty sleepy Jeongin picking up the phone, asking who the hell had called him so early and why they were disturbing him. “I had nothing to do that morning, so, well, I just took advantage of it for sleeping a bit more. Changbin… he was out, I was alone in that moment. Uh, my phone rang while I was half-asleep, I picked up and” he let out a sigh, as if he was letting something off his chest, “it was my aunt. You, you don’t call someone at seven in the morning on a daily basis, okay?” his hands started shaking a little, as he was continously tapping his foot on the pavement, “I did heard she wasn’t alright either, even though she was trying to put herself together. She was on the other side of the telephone, telling me my mum..” his voice cracked, as well as his hands; before, gesticulating restlessly, and then falling under his kneels, since his elbows were leaning on them. With the movement, the envelope fell, nonetheless Jeongin didn’t bother gathering it. “She got married a few nights before the call. She married this unknown man that apparently runs a pop-up store.”

“You wanna find her?”

“You don’t know her, Hyunjin. You don’t, trust me.” said he bitterly, “It’s been me and her since I was born. She made me believe I was the only person she has ever needed.. Bullshit! A crock of shit! I grew up believing it was me and her and that she would have always been by my side. She bended over backwards for all my childhood and adolescence working all day, doing extra shifts, giving me the opportunity to go to college, to own a car… For what? Leaving me as I’m barely an adult?” he swallowed, taking a chance for breathing, “When I was a kid my aunt hid the truth, telling me a bunch of lies to live better; she, Gosh.. my mum cut ties with all my family, except my aunt. She didn’t want me to meet nor getting to know them, I don’t even know how they’re like! And you know what? I settled for it, at some point I had to come to terms with it and lock everything in a closet. But I didn’t expect her to cheat. I didn’t.”

“Jeongin…”

“I was aware she wasn’t stable. I mean, someone stable would marry a man without even telling your son? Someone stable would cut ties with her own family and not let his baby meet them?”

“What about your aunt? Didn’t she, I don’t know-”

“She respected her sister’s decisions, like I did.” as his voice was lowering, his eyes fell on Hyunjin’s wrist, “You have it.” his tone softened right after.

Hyunjin smiled slightly, “You notice that every time.”

“You never put it off.”

“I listen, c’mon.”

“The point is that I knew how she behaves. It was kinda hard get on well with her, but, you know, she was my mum and I love her. I guess she didn’t feel the same, she doesn’t care about anything nor anybody. Maybe, for awhile the life she’s created was okay, she settled down, it wasn’t that bad. And suddenly, it didn’t work anymore.” once more, his rationality and his tears were competing to see what side was going to win, “I’m so pathetic, I thought that with a son it would have been different.”

Staying calm was a race Jeongin couldn’t win. The hands shaking, covering his visage; hot tears running down his cheeks, his mouth letting out yells, whining as if he was a child whose lollipop had been taken away. However, the unbridgeable gap lurked in the missing object: the snatched lollipop was in someone’s hands, the child could stand up, perhaps climb up the long body of his parent to, eventually, be able to grab the treat. What Jeongin was missing wasn’t anywhere in sight; it was as warm as a bonfire, a fire meant to fizzle out and that, once it had extinguished and only the ash remained, left a sensation of cold as freezing as a dark night. The cry he let out was similar to the one of a son without a mother, of course, but it belonged to an even sadder declension of a parent who didn’t care about their own flesh and blood.

“ ‘Am sorry.” breathed out Jeongin, as soon as he didn’t feel the need to cry anymore. His sight remained moist, he could still feel the lower eyelashes drenched. “I’ll move beyond that.”

Hyunjin held the other hand whose fingertips, he foun d out, were moist too, “I’m here” in the moment, they looked at each other. He knew where he was locking himself, but he hadn’t been able to avoid that again. Goosebumps all over his arms, although it was late June. Hyunjin, until then, had thought cowardice was going to corrode every part of his skin; unexpectedly, beside Jeongin he could handle it. For Jeongin he could handle it, even if it was only for a minute or two.

The latter bursted into a small laugh, “You’re holding my hand again… Why?” all the photos scattered on the pavement, Jeongin’s eyelashes wet at touch, their hands intertwined (no intention of letting go).

“Can I?” asked Jeongin, who waited for Hyunjin to nod to lean his head against his shoulder. Hands still interlaced, they stayed like that for an undefined amount of time.

Hyunjin thought it could only get better.

* * *

Jeongin did as he had always done: he swallowed the bitterest pil he could take. Actually, he tried to call his mother once or twice, but she had never picked up; thereby, Jeongin gave up and put the photos he had gotten printed in a well hidden part of his room. Concerning Changbin, he didn’t ask what happened even though some glances brought Jeongin considering that his roommate had detected his bad mood; nothing sensational, though. On the other hand, the unrewarding task of listening to the young man letting off the steam had been up to Seungmin – the latter repeated more than once that it was fair, that’s what friends do and, with that, he unintentionally opened a quite big bracket regarding Felix and his behaviour. Jeongin’s thoughts were elsewhere; some of them were terrified at the work waiting for him that day, whereas some others were untangled between a passive anger towards Felix and a well active happiness towards Hyunjin.

“Shall we see the third-weak verbs?” demanded his best friend, moving closer the table with his chair. Seungmin, that sunny afternoon, was obstinate to go study at the usual garden; yet, Felix’s presence betrayed them and the two friends found themselves studying at the study room in their dormitory.

“We really need this?” whined the other, covering his face with the textbook, “I can’t remember normal verbs, in your opinion I will learn those irregular verbs?”

“Yes, no wonder. For exanple, I do remember them.”

“You don’t count, you’re like – Virgil’s son? Something like that? Tell me your secrets, man.” said he, probably too loud because someone, right after, reminded them to stay silent. “However,” whispered Jeongin, getting closer to Seungmin, “Third-weak verbs include, hm, coepi? Didn’t it mean begin?” the older nodded, “Uh! See, I knew that. And it hasn’t.. Seungmin?”

The latter looked up from his phone, locking it, “Nothing against a friend coming here, true?”. Typically, his friend could focus on books for entire hours without struggling, but that day he seemed lost in his own world.

Jeongin’s eyes widened at the odd request, “Oh, no, no. Your friends are my friends, mi casa es tu casa.” then, he opened his messy notebook, “Erm, I’ll finish this, I guess. _To my wife_ , Cicero.”

When he said that, he believed it was was he was about to do in the near future. However, not even the time to read the last line, that a door slammed, revealing a young woman. Her middle-length brown hair were tidy for being curly, the dark skin stressed an elegant, smart gaze – verily, everything about her was refined, although she was wearing a casual white vest top and a pair of denim jeans. She approached towards them sitting next to Seungmin, who looked like knowing her.

“Boy,” greeted, as she sat on the chair, “what’s up?” the young man’s face was in front of Jeongin, still the backrest of his chair was almost touching the woman’s kneels, whose hands were resting on Seungmin’s upper arm.

“Pretty good, Taalin. Thanks.” Taalin? Jeongin didn’t remember her name slipping ever up during their conversations. “Have you met Jeongin?” as he spoke, the youngest glimpsed his friend trying to widen the collar of the t-shirt he was wearing.

Taalin smiled, “Not yet! You’re so rude.” then, she focused on Jeongin, “Nice to meet you, I’m Taalin. Seungmins has told me about you _many_ times: you’re friends from the cradle, aren’t you?” she stretched her hand out.

“Basically, we are.” giggled he, shaking her hand “Help me out, you’re new around here?”

Not always his curiosity was appreciated by Seungmin and, he understood, that was one of those times when he deadly glanced at him. Wrong question at the wrong time, definitely too fast. “You must know everyone here, hm? By the way, I’m new. I’m attending courses here for a few months. I’m on an exchange project, rather complicated to explain.”

“Sounds nice.” hummed he, already lowering his gaze on Cicero’s essay.

“Indeed! I’ve met Seungmin shortly after I arrived, we got on well since the first second.” his best friend briefly looked blushing at the new student, a detail that Jeongin didn’t miss out, “I’m very lucky to have met him, it made my, erm, Minnie, how’s that?”

“Adaptation?”

“Yeah! He made my adaptation easier.” she stayed silent for a moment, until she noticed his notebook, “Oh, I’ve interrupted you? My bad… What are you doing?”

“ ‘Tryna translate latin.” Jeongin claimed, ending his part of dialogue.

“I’ve told you this morning that I’m helping Jeongin with Latin today. Sorry, baby.”continued the other man, placing his hand on Taalin’s tight. Seungmin had something to explain.

Jeongin rolled his eyes, unlocking his phone. He assumed those sweet nothings were going to last long, _too_ long. However, an inbox message caught his attention in a jiffy. It was from Minho. _Are you at the dorm? I can’t find you two crackheads anywhere!!_

“Lovebirds, I don’t enjoy interrupt you but Minho is here.”

“Minho? Who’s Minho, Minnie?” asked Taalin in a pout; her arms intertwined with his.

“A friend of our, he used to study here but now he study at a conservatory. We haven’t seen him since he left.”

“That’s why we should hurry up.” stepped in Jeongin, putting all his stuff in his bag, “Bye Taalin, nice meeting you.”

They both stood up to go. Yet Taalin had been able to grab Seungmin’s wrist just on time, “I’ll catch you later, hm?”

“Of course.” replied he in a giggle, before Taalin gave him a peck on his lips.

Yes, Seungmin had definitely something to explain.

“Jeez, I missed y’all so much!” exclaimed Minho, getting out the tight hug Jeongin and Seungmin trapped him in. They all were in Seungmin’s room eating his reserve of snacks, he let them know, he personally had bought the night before. It was similar to the sleepover they usually organised in winter, turning a blind eye on rules (Nam Jagmin’s shift ended at 7:00 p.m. anyway) and staying awake until dawn. When Minho arrived that day, it was almost evening but the air between them was exactly the same.

“We missed you too, Min.” sighed Jeongin, biting a chip. Actually, he had been able to notice how Minho seemed calmer and more relaxed than before; the eldest didn’t even complain for a sudden migraine and he wasn’t as silent as he had been lately. Being in his company felt unusual, by then they weren’t used anymore to have him in the way; still, it was nice being reunited. Thinking how deeply things changed in a month was crazy.

“How are you doing at Sacred Heart? Tired of rich kids already?” Seungmin asked amused, sipping cola.

“Nah, rich kids are okay. Just missed you two.” admitted he, raising his hands, “Lessons last all damn day, my ears still ring. Not gonna lie, I’m struggling a bit because the level is high but, uh, I improve day by day. How about you?”

They glanced at each other, as if they were concluding an agreement regarding what they could say and what they could not say. Jeongin shrugged, “Everything’s the same. I try to learn _res, rei, rei, rem, res, reg_ and Seungmin scolds me because it should be _res, rei, rei, rem, res, re._ ”

“At least now you know the fifth declension, ungrateful kid.” spitted out the other, throwing a cushion at him, “I can’t understand why you think _reg_ could ever exist.”

“In latin everything is possible, don’t understimate its power.”

“Honestly,” intervened Minho as he was standing up, “I don’t miss latin at all. Now, excuse me, I gotta pee.”

“Academy has shaped you, this flowery language is unbelievable.” joked Seungmin, although the person concerned just ignored him.

As soon as they remained alone, Seungmin himself sat next to Jeongin. “Innie, we have a problem.” whispered he, serious.

“Oh no, you didn’t get it. _You_ have a problem, what’s going on with you and… Taalin?”

“I’m serious! We have a problem, Jisung’s arriving very soon and if they two meet… It’ll a mess”

Jeongin frowned, swallowing another chip, “Can’t we hang out before he comes? Jisung will never know Minho’s been here and Minho will never know Jisung was supposed to be here. Problem solved.”

“But I gotta wait for him!”

Jeongin rolled his eyes, “Seriously? What have you two to do that it’s more important than cover your friend’s ass?”

Seungmin winced, “We have to clean the bathroom! We always argue about housework and we came to the conclusion that it’s better if we do them together, so…”

“Got it, I’ll take Minho away from here as soon as possible.”

Minho himself came back, sitting on the floor, “Here I am.” he looked at his friends, who were as well looking at each other frightened, “Something’s wrong?” they both smiled, shaking their heads, “Oh, that’s good. Erm, I gotta tell you something. I’ve been bottling this up for a few weeks and telling you through text wasn’t the best way to so, uh,” he muttered, cracking noisly his fingers, “That’s the reason why I visited you suddenly and I feel like a fool and I’m so sorry to come up here and ruin whatever I’ll possibly ruin.”

“What’s the matter?” asked Jeongin.

“It’s stupid because I’ve been the one to want this but, crap, I realised I’m still in love with Jisung.” after his sentence, only silence followed. Jeongin seeked again for Seungmin’s gaze, in an attempt to believe that it wasn’t happening to him – and if it had been, what he should have done? He couldn’t stand Minho’s eyes lowering, coming back to a life he had built fast, to replace the old one.

Before he could say anything unfixable, the three of them heard a key unlocking the door. Minho had understood; in fact, it was obvious by the way he sat straight, searching for something in his pockets. Seungmin was throwing in the small bin all the trash and, finally, Jeongin was watching all of that happen. He squinted, as if it was going to stop bad things from happening.

Jisung stepped in, “Oi Seungmin, I went to the supermarket to…” he fell silent, noticing both Jeongin’s and Minho presence, “Uh, hey guys, I didn’t notice you were here.” Jisung’s and Minho eyes were trapped in each other, Jeongin instantly wondered what they must be thinking in that moment. His ex roommate, who was kneeling down on the floor, flinched a bit. “How, how are you?” continued Jisung uncertainly.

“Fine, thank you.” replied Minho, forcing a smile. Jisung did the same not to sound rude.

Jeongin wanted to scream.

It couldn’t be happening, not in that moment, in that way. Jeongin knew so well what there was ahead of Minho. For a few seconds, he felt the need to interrupt that dialogue of circumstance, in which they preferred showing off maturity than what they really thought. Body, however, was a cage for feelings and the conditions outside of it were a huge prison. Jeongin recalled when Minho introduced him to Jisung, the image of them two was indelible. They were part of the same system: Jisung worked only if Minho did too and Minho stood a tough day only if Jisung had the same strength. Their balance was enviable. Sometimes, they would glimpse at each other to make a decision, or because something had reminded them an important memory of theirs. No words, they didn’t need them. Their love blossomed silently, Jeongin thought, so it could only dry in a hidden corner.

“I should get going. My train leaves in thirty minutes.” talked again Minho, buttoning the last botton of his shirt and grabbing his backpack, “I’m so glad to have met you guys. Come to visit me, mh?”

“Sure, Min.” continued Seungmin, “But for real, don’t you need a lift? You’re never gonna get there if you go on foot.”

“No worries, I’m fine-”

“I’ll give you a ride.” interrupted Jisung, “Unless you want to miss your train.”

* * *

The board showed a big, thick red 45 for his train. It was fourty-five minutes late. Minho had hoped it wasn’t his ride, that he was going to arrive at the academy safe and sound and, above all, that his torture was about to end soon. The universe didn’t agree with him. He considered as enough sharing a short walk with his ex-boyfriend, finding out that, of course, he had only his scooter and having to stay very close to him for endless five minutes. No, it wasn’t enough. Not at all. When both the board and the speaker communicated that the train was almost an hour late, Minho didn’t hesitate to tell Jisung he hadn’t to wait with him and he could go finish his commitments. Jisung ignored his advice and replied he had no problem in waiting a little.

Jisung was like this, Minho reminded himself; he wasn’t selfish and, although for awhile he found it easier to believe, he wasn’t a bad person either. Minho fell in love with it – staying beside Jisung was pleasant, natural and as he wasn’t anymore he missed it, feeling an emptiness that could not be filled. Getting used to happiness, sincerity, little fragments of carefreeness had been, indeed, too simple: even when it wasn’t okay, it still was. Those five years had been an perpetual filled source of joy to draw upon every time. Until the last second, letting it go was fair. But adapting, it was not. Don’t get it wrong, attending the academy made him the gladest person on earth, yet came times in which he just missed everything – he missed what they had had, nevertheless he missed as well arguing, cry his heart out, turn his back, then being hugged. And again, he missed not talking for hours, cursing the day they had met, so that he could come back and fade in his kisses and appear to breath some air.

Their love, theirs was a love without armor. Falling had scratched their epidermis; it was pure, deep, there weren’t laws – they didn’t know they existed. Minho got out of his bedroom to discover Jisung, in a period of life in which the last thing you want is leave your room and getting out of your own comfort zone, and tasted love, because it was. Yes, at his primordial form, but it still was love. Even though he didn’t how to control it, and that led him bang his head.

When there was no risk of getting hurt, Minho got aware that it had no sense living without that danger.

“It’s a matter of minutes.” broke Jisung the silence, checking his watch. They were sitting on a bench at the right track, by then the sky was dark: not even a star to light it up. The track was almost uncrowded, they were far from the noise of the city.

“You didn’t have to drive me, you know that?” Minho was gazing the other’s profile, Jisung didn’t answer or move. He let the statement come off his shoulders.

A train ran through the track, distracting and slightly lifting their light garments; cold air sorrounding them for an instant. Minho realised he was wasting his occasion. He came back to solve his problem, clear his doubts and, consequently, talk to Jisung. He was wasting his chance, the huge chance he had been given by who knows who. Somehow, he still was the seventeen year old kid playing his favourite instrument by the window of his room, exploring the qualities and the flaws of his first love. And… Jisung was still the fifteen year old kid smoking disinterestedly a cigarette longer than his hand. Understanding they didn’t belong anymore to that part of themselves was too sad to Minho. Five years had been a filled source of joy that, well, tore them apart.

“I didn’t came here to greet Jeongin and Seungmin.” began he, “I didn’t came here because I needed a break from the conservatory. I love that place… I do love it.”

“What do you mean?”

“No, don’t, uh, don’t interrupt me, please. I could not have the stomach to talk to you. I’m just so sorry. In the moment I broke up with you, I don’t know, I thought I wasn’t in love any more. Like, I started a new life and it was good the first days, our five years slipped away from my hands quickly. I didn’t think about you, I’d be a liar saying otherwise. I couldn’t believe myself but then… Then it’s been a week, two weeks and I started craving even for those arguments of ours I used to hate. Remember arguing for useless reasons? Those were better than not having you beside me; you were somewhere, I knew exactly where you were. Seungmin would mention you every now and then. Still, it wasn’t enough. You were in memories, but you weren’t in my present life. It felt so wrong, so weird not having the possibility of talking to you, or.. I’m crossing the line.”

“Stop it.”

“Yes, I’m crossing the line. A step ahead could break even this fake security. For God’s sake, I just wanna restart. With you.”

Jisung looked at Minho’s in the eyes. He didn’t like that sorry gaze. “You see that, that it makes no sense? You’ve been the one to want this. It didn’t cross your mind how I felt being left behind, did you? You said you were unhappy of your life, that I.. that I clipped your wings. If you felt like this, why didn’t you just talk about it? We’ve been together for five years! I knew you a little bit, I would have never stopped you from persuing your dreams. What was I? The person who took you down? The person who chained you, Minho? I loved you, but you didn’t want it!” he breathed out, “You’re right, you’re right. We had problems. Problems that I was ready to face, we were facing them. You gave up and I don’t evem know whether I can blame you for that. That was your choice, I respected it because that was what we have always done. I had to find normality in something else like you did. Now you cannot bump in and claim to change it again. You can’t.”

They didn’t talk. “I met someone, however. I think I should be honest with you.”

“When?” that was all Minho said.

“Three weeks ago. I bumped into Changbin thanks to a friend.”

“We broke up almost two months ago. It took you a month?”

“How long did it take to leave me, though? Fifteen minutes.” sighed Jisung, “Your train is arriving. I should get going.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it took me forever but finally i'm here!! that's definitely the longest chapter i've written i am TIRED, hope you're doing well tho. i'm trying my best to balance writing and studying for school, so i'm sorry if chapter are always coming kinda late:(( don't promise you anything but i could post chap 23 in the weekend!! meanwhile, lmk your thoughts below or on [curious cat](https://curiouscat.me/writinghwang) , kudos are super appreciated as well! <3 pls don't mind mistakes, something always slips out even tho i revise and english is not my first language jsasdsksdns have a nice week !! love u !!!


	23. Rain

Changbin didn’t use to come back after dinner. By then, it had been a few nights that the two of them had a meal together; during their first night as roommates they find out they had the same exact taste in food, hence they ended up eating heated up ramen. Something that, for the record, surprised Jeongin: he already knew Changbin’s parents ran one of the most popular venues of the city, so he assumed he was going to have high standards concerning food. Conversely, he was open to everything. They tried, apart from supermarket ramen, pizza with boiled potatoes, pizza with fish, pizza with a too thick cover of cheese (Jeongin rejected Changbin’s suggestion of pizza with pineapple, the mere thought was disgusting. Who the hell decided to put fruit on pizza?). Then dinner wasn’t only an excuse to save time and money, but as well a way to establish a bond.

It was on Jeongin dealing with supper. In the afternoon, they texted a bit to decide between pop-corn with a comedy movie to watch or french fries with, still, a good comedy movie to watch. The choice fell on pop-corn, therefore Jeongin had to carve out an hour to make for the supermarket to buy two bags of pop-corn, leaving his handbook half-open on the desk. Seungmin stated he and Changbin were blatantly copying his and Jisung’s tradition of having together a midnight snack and maybe he wasn’t completely wrong – Jeongin would only wince and switch subject, too proud.

Night, indeed, was the worst part of the day and Jeongin did need a distraction. He could gulp down so much food that he had his stomach at his fullest; he could gulp down so much food that he couldn’t help falling asleep in a span of three minutes. Nightmares were going to stay only in his sleep, they weren’t going to ruin his day. Only once, the night they had had boiled potatoes pizza, Jeongin awoke after barely two hours of sleep. Changbin was snoring loudly, the moon’s flare filtered through the shutters and, unlikely their sense of order, the cartons of pizza had been forgotten on their desk. Jeongin whined and convinced himself to leave his bed and go throwing the rubbish out.

Jeongin did his best not to wake Changbin up: he threw the cartons in the bin and closed the trash bag. The light of the room bothered his eyes, used to darkness at that point. He ran down the stairs and got out the dormitory. The trash can was at the back of the building, in a quite enlightned part of the campus. It was a normal summer night, the air was muggy and the weather was wet; exam period gathered in their own room almost every student, letting the deafening quiet dominate the scene. The worst side, it was. Jeongin had never displeased night, he enjoyed relaxing, reading some pages of a book, drifting away from the rest of the world. Night was a sweet friend, even during those that were sleepless, in company of a dim light of a table lamp.

Still, since the morning he had received the call from his aunt, night became unbearable. Night was a space of loneliness, loss, it induced him to think, wonder, dwell, sulk and Jeongin wanted to reduce that to the minimum. He succed not to act on instinct for a few days, however as he found himself alone under the protection of the stars, Jeongin allowed himself to bask. He felt emptiness, as if he’d been deprived of an organ, or his left lung couldn’t make it without the other – he had no air, or as if he had a mouth to eat with but he couldn’t taste flavours. Jeongin went through life, yet it wasn’t the same life – although it seemed so. He learnt to live without a leg, but … without a lung? What was he supposed to do? Right when that thought kicked in, he decided to go back to bed.

That evening, Jeongin had already set everything ready for their pop-corn dinner; he had also managed to found special kinds of pop-corn, thereby he bought a bag of them with chocolate and the other bag with lime. Truthfully, Jeongin lost the track of time since he had returned from the supermarket. Only when he had turned on his laptop, Jeongin acknowledged it was very late. And Changbin wasn’t there. Naturally, he waited for him. He even sent a message that didn’t receive any response. Changbin had cancelled their plan without minding it. He didn’t know the reason why he, at some point, had to calm himself down. Breathing in, breathing out: he was trying to reject the lump in his throat. It was denying him any painless action, from thinking straight to putting on his a pyjama. He felt left behind and he felt the need to do something about it. He had to find his mother, although a gentle rain was probably about to ruin his plans, too.

Jeongin put on a jacket and grabbed an umbrella and a few bucks for the ride. He swicthed off the light, he needed the truth.

The rain had discouraged him to reach his house with his car, he settled for the last bus for his town. As he got to the bus station, it was already raining heavely. The umbrella was a modest protection from the raindrops falling on the ground, whereas the icy air was almost breaking his bones. His bus arrived on time, completely uncrowded.

During the way, he wondered what he was about to find once he was there. Was she going to be with his husband? Was she going to be asleep? Was she going to talk to him, let him in? She had put barriers between them, she had cut ties with her only child. How many chances had he for his mum, his loved mum, to welcome him with open arms?

As a driver, there was a man in his sixties whose skin had been visibly damaged by a quite long life. The door opened and the tired visage of the man hinted a small astonishment coming across a young man at such an hour. Jeongin got on, asking for a ticket. The grizzled man rubbed his eyes, “2.000 ₩, little man”

Jeongin put his hand in the pocket of his jacket, grabbing the needed money, “Here you are.” said he in a whisper, handing the coins to the driver, who eyed him from head to toe. The young man immediately looked down at his shoes, not saying a word. He looked up only when he heard the sound of ripped paper.

“Your ticket” exclaimed the disinterested man, giving Jeongin the ticket. The latter flew to his sit, placing his umbrella between his legs. Night had just started, probably Changbin had already come back and was looking for him, but Jeongin decided not to open his mobile. With a bit of fatigue, the bus set off. 

A memory crossed his mind. He and his mother, months before, had taken the same bus to visit his future college. The sun shined brightly, Jeongin had just passed his finals and his mum was next to him at every step he did. She was wearing those squared sunglasses Jeongin had always claimed to dislike but that, actually, loved seeing on her. He recalled asking her why he couldn’t drive all the way to the city and his mother replying that, obviously, she couldn’t fully trust him when it came to driving. They laughed; the present was a million years away, the past was a reality he enjoyed and the future was too far even to imagine. In a flash, he was alone looking for her. And he wished he had something of hers to touch, to see. It didn’t matter, he reminded himself, every kilometre was bringing him closer to her.

The bus stopped abrutly, while his watch was striking midnight.

Water was flooding the roads and the side walks of the little town; water was beating on Jeongin’s plastic home, drenching his trainers, making him feel cold. Feet hit the ground quickly, step by step, in a pointless marathon whose goal was arriving as soon as possible. No car was passing by, families were inside their homes waiting for the rain to stop and another summer day to come.

Even though it was starting getting much colder, Jeongin couldn’t stop. He ran through narrow streets to arrive in front of a four floor flat. Yellow plaster, little balconies, shutters down; only a window was open, revealing a room lit by a television. Next to the flat, there weren’t many dwellings, and those weren’t so close to his. Jeongin, before buzzing, remained in front of the doorbell, seeking for their surname. After a moment of hesitation, he rang it – he heard the echo resounding in what was his home. Again, shutters down. Moreover, a sign hang on the balcony: _for sale_.

The umbrella he was about to close, slipped out from his hands, leaving him under the rain with no protection. There was no chance the house was occupied: his mum used to leave a light on when she was sleeping or there was no one at home. Jeongin remembered locking his door, not to let the light of a lamp came in. That light, it faded away. It disappeared. She was gone; Jeongin was at her door, their door, but it had become a useless, empty place nobody belonged to. He brought a hand to his mouth, covering the eyes of the kid he was that still lived in the house to hide him the truth. One, two, three steps back… Until he tripped. Soon he felt under his back the hard concrete and the rain beating continuosly on him. He rested on the hands, raising his back.

Homeless. He was homeless.

Or, at least, it’s the first thing that came to his mind: he had no home. He was a ship lost in the ocean, between waves and tides. He was nothing different to a stray cat, abandoned at the corner of the street. He couldn’t believe it, because Jeongin wasn’t weak. He hadn’t been taught to be like that. His armour was thick, Jeongin was ready to deal with people giving him the cold shoulder, even if they were going to hurt him. Jeongin believed he was strong, but he wasn’t: he was sitting on sidewalk during a rainy night, when little crystal tears were blended in the thousands of raindrops. He wanted to know what was the end of his path, where it was leading him, what it really meant, but he didn’t know. Even that smallest part of his past he was sure about vanished from his sight.

Moon, where was the moon? And the stars? Were they shining just a bit? Why the sky could only show gray clouds that night? Was the moon ever going to appear again? Heaps of water were covering his side. He felt too cold and it wasn’t only the drenched clothes. He wasn’t ready for his mum to turn away from him.

Without a face. He hadn’t a face.

Or, at least, that’s what he thought when he tried to realize what had just happened. On his face, there weren’t any facial features that intermingled, he was anonymous: his eyes weren’t telling a story, his ears weren’t the result of a long adventure, he couldn’t compare his slender hands to anyone else. He was a face without a meaning, so it was like not owning one. A blank page. No one would read an empty book.

His phone rang. Due to the impact with the ground, the screen was slightly cracked. Jeongin grabbed it, reading who was calling him before picking up: Changbin. Not to spend the night under the rain, he took his call.

“Hey Jeongin, I know I haven’t told you before but I had to meet up with Jisung and forgot to tell you. I think we can still do our pop-corn dinner tomorrow, right? I’ve just returned and seen everything was ready. By the way, I wanted to know where you are because it’s pretty late and I’m going to bed… Jeongin?”

Changbin’s metallic voice was way lower than the noise the rain was keeping on making. Jeongin’s hands were freezing, it felt winter on his skin all of a sudden. He swallowed, “Changbin, please listen.” the voice was broken, but he didn’t mind, “I wanna… I wanna come home, please.”

* * *

Jeongin woke up when the sun hadn’t arose yet. Before he could get up, he sneezed. He had even slept quite well. Yes, he fell asleep, perhaps, too heavly but it had been a sleep Jeongin didn’t displease at all. He remained under his warm covers, lying down on his back; however, he tilted his head to confirm himself that Changbin was sleeping as well – of course he was, it was pretty early.

A few hours before, Changbin managed to find his position; Jeongin couldn’t explain how could he have made it, he was alternating a word and a sob and… he was too absent-minded to reason. During the ride, they didn’t talk. They didn’t talk, because the mere exchange they had was, basically, one-sided and, looking back, Jeongin realised he had gone too far. In fact, the instinct imposed him to yell whatever had the misfortune to came to his mind. Changbin sighed, suggesting him to take a rest and think about it the next morning.

In all fairness, Jeongin wasn’t even feeling so bad. Respiration? Perfect. Heartbeat? It was great. The sole perk he could find regarding his health was the cold he had just woken up with. For what it’s worth, Jeongin had thought it was going to be much worse. He was able to handle it; eventually, his body was still working, there wasn’t any malfunction to force him believing he couldn’t overcome it.

Oh, it was way subtler. It occupied as cleverly as a sneak his own enclosure, his own fortification that his organism was, mass of blood and cells, damaging it. Without Jeongin knowing, it corroded like the most powerful acid his organs, making room for nothing. Oh, that’s what he felt at a certain point: a pit in his stomach. It didn’t hurt as sharpingly as a blade stabbing his tummy would have done; rather it was hurting like a slight nuisance, something that makes you turn your nose up. All of a sudden, however, Jeongin felt his innards shriking and stretching which, again, didn’t hurt all at once – it left a wound, a bleeding wound… It ached.

With a bleeding wound, Jeongin didn’t mind putting off his pyjama, nor brush his hair nor put something in his stomach. Jeongin grabbed his phone, got out of his room in slippers, crossed a wide yard. Streelights were still on, but a warm weather herald the upcoming day. Jeongin had to drag himself, bleeding and aching, as far as the other dormitory building. As he was in front of the dorm, he realised the door was locked. Like a panhandler asking for help, Jeongin knocked the door, until he remembered there would always be a key hidden under the rug at the entrance.

Jeongin walked the same stairs he had helped Hyunjin climbing; yet, this time the one in need of someone lending his hand was him. He felt like an outcast, knocking that door. He felt useless, completely lost. He was lost in his own room, he was swimming and suddenly forgot how to do it.

A still sleepy Hyunjin opened the door, rubbing his eye. He yawned soundly, covering his mouth with a hand. The hair gathered in a low bun, little drop of sweat on his forehead – Hyunjin and his habit of sleeping under the covers even though it was almost July. It was the same feeling he had when a few weeks before they were near Hyunjin’s home. It was the same. But.. but this time, Jeongin was ceasing holding his breath. “Jeongin? Shouldn’t you be” he yawned, interrupting his own words, “sleeping? It must be six in the morning.”

The latter looked down at his slippers and at Hyunjin’s bare feet. How was he supposed to put into words… that? A hand on his shoulder got him raising his gaze. “Ehy, everything’s alright?” the foggy voice said, gently. Hyunjin’s gaze encountered his, as Jeongin put his hand upon the one resting on his shoulder.

The elder invited him to come in. He waved him to don’t make any noise, as Jeongin saw Changmin sleeping over his covers. Hyunjin sat on his own unmade bed, patting on its mattress; an invite for Jeongin to sit as well. An early morning light made Hyunjin’s visage slightly light blue, probably it was only a cold light. Jeongin was sitting in the dark corner of the room, his kneels close to his chest, his chin on them and, finally, his arms embracing his legs.

“Something’s happened.” asserted Hyunjin, although it sounded like a personal observation. “Listen, maybe… you should talk. If, if you don’t want it’s okay but, well…” the other chuckled, hearing that stuff from him.

“I should call my aunt. Uh, hope it doesn’t…”

“No trouble at all.” Hyunjin minded to reply right away, “I guess you want some privacy, so, erm, no problem going to the bathroom?”

The situation was surreal. Once Hyunjin had let him alone in the bathroom, Jeongin typed quickly his aunt’s phone number. Three rings. Jeongin, sitting on the floor of the room, waited for her to pick up. “Hey honeybunny, you up already?” the always calm tone immediately calmed Jeongin down. His aunt was likely to wake up early for work, so it wasn’t weird hearing her perky at such an hour in the morning.

Jeongin didn’t answer; a stranger was keeping a knife dangerously close to his throat, forbidding him to speak. The blade could cut deeply his neck, yet he was trying to find some air: squirm enough to set himself free. All that his brain allowed him to do was nodding and squinting his eyes, in a clumsy attempt of breathing out a word. Tears were flooding his eyes, he could feel the rain pounding on him once more. “Apparently”

“Do you… do you need anything? I should be in city soon, we could meet: what do you say?”, Jeongin loved the way his aunt took care of him. She was a gentle hand caressing his cheek, the lullaby before slipping into the arms of Morpheus and, of course, the shoulder that was always going to carry his backpack in his place when he was a child.

The young man wiped his tears away with the palm of his hand, “Auntie, I’ve been at mum’s…”, Jeongin took a deep breath, before keeping on talking, “She, she wasn’t there. The house is on sale and…”

“No, no, hey honeybunny, are you sure it was her home? Perhaps it was your neighbour’s apartment, you must have misunderstood, hun. You mum loved you so much, she wouldn’t-”

“That’s the point!” screamed Jeongin, “You’re right, she love _d_ me. It, it was our balcony, I can’t confuse it! We used to grow plants there and sunbathe and… I lived there, auntie. I lived there. With her.”

“Honeybunny, listen. I knew everything, okay? She told me to pack your stuff but, try to understand, how was I supposed to tell you not only that she got married but that she was even abandoning us. How could I, baby?”

“You should have told me!” his scream was, by then, only a miserable cry, “You should have told me she isn’t coming back! And… And I could have greeted her! Do you see I don’t even remember the last time I saw her?! Auntie, I beg you, she’s my mum.”, tears streamed down his cheeks out of control, the words blended with broken sobs. So much he yelled, that his throat was hurting; a forest into flames.

“My baby, I… I can’t bring you to your mum. I’d do anything for you, but I can’t. Your auntie can’t give you your mum back.” She sighed sadly, “I’ll tell you a story. Promise me you’ll stop crying, deal?”. Jeongin sniffed, whispering a yes. “That’s a little stupid, not gonna lie. The night you were born, I had had my longest shift at work. So, I arrived late and you were already sleeping in your mum’s arms. That night… I went straight to the hospital, it was raining so bad. I thought about my dad, who once told me that babies born on rainy days are stubborn. All of them. I’ve seen your visage and recalled that. You know what? Turns out I was right, she gave birth to the most stubborn child I’ve ever met, but stubborness is resilience, courage, faith in what you believe in and I’m endlessly proud of the young man you are today. You… you’re brave enough. Now get some sleep, clear? I want my nephew to be in full force for our next call. Always love you, yeah?”

“Love you too.” replied he, hanging up.

Verily, Jeongin was feeling low, deprived of his own emotions. He was on the floor, in the same position he was on Hyunjin’s bed. He desired to clam up, not hearing anything from the world. All the love in the world wasn’t going to give him his mum back. He was a child left alone at school, waiting for the mother to come pick him up. Well, he was at the exit of a school nobody was ever going to show up at. The only one he wanted didn’t want him back. How can a person reject feelings of their own son? Thinking about it, it hurt even more; the wound was wadening. The cracked phone was on the floor, and he was yelling as loudly as he could to the world that it had no reason to exist, if nature allowed that.

Hyunjin opened the door, pulling it behind him then. However, Jeongin only heard his steps approaching, until he kneeled down to him. He didn’t want Hyunjin to see him like this; the red and swollen eyes, his body crumpled like wastepaper… He didn’t want Hyunjin to see him as scrap material. But, as well, he didn’t want to be left behind; he couldn’t let that happen. “Are you okay now?” asked him the elder, the hand against on his shoulder again.

He raised his head until he touched the wall, repressing another cry. _Don’t look at me, don’t look at me… But please, please, look at me for a second._ Jeongin shook his head, pressing his lips together. He let out a sob, “Hyunjin, it hurts so much”. Blood leaking out from his leg, the hemorrhage was wearing him down. He held onto the hand resting on his shoulder, “Promise you aren’t leaving me, please tell me you won’t.” He didn’t awaited an answer, though. “I don’t want to feel again like this” said he, his voice cracking and his face getting wet. “Stay with me.” ended he, inviting Hyunjin to come closer.

The latter wrapped his arms around Jeongin’s shoulder, sitting next to him. Jeongin loved Hyunjin’s warm presence, it was comforting, it was just right. He was able to let himself let his guard down, stomp his feet, cling to his arm as a koala held on the trunk of a tree. The shouts, at a certain point, were so desperate Hyunjin had to cover the younger’s mouth with his free hand. Then, he gently moved Jeongin in front of him, whose head rested on his t-shirt, pouring it. What Hyunjin assumed was fair to do was caressing slowly his back, that blew up and went down at the pace of his breaths. With the other hand, he kept Jeongin’s head close to his chest, next to his heart, kissing the crown of his hair as if he was a kid to reassure.

“I’m wetting your t-shirt” observed Jeongin, trying to put himself together again.

Hyunjin clutched at him even more, “No worries, I like it soggy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> important note: never take seriously my promises, i'm not gonna keep them. just kidding, hello my friends!!! first of all, i had all the best intention in giving you an extra chapter this week but, again, school sucks and basically i got tests everyday, true story (sobbing in junior year). second of all, writing takes so much time that i even forget i spend at least six hours on my word file, very funny. third of all, we're kinda close to end of this story and i already miss it lmaoo. hence, lmk what you think trough comments, kudos or on my [curious cat](https://curiouscat.me/writinghwang) <33 please take care!! see you next week <33


	24. Secrets

Jisung grabbed his shirt at edge of the bed, smelling it to check whether he could still wear it. He turned up his nose, he couldn’t. He had no idea of what time it was but, judging by the chatter he heard downstairs where kitchen and venue took place, he assumed it was almost midday. Jisung yawned, deciding to postpone the moment when he was going to wake up and start the day; he returned to bed, laying down, tossing and turning to catch, somehow, sleepy Changbin’s attention.

Changbin’s room was wide, sunlit and the gut of the furniture favoured wood; from the wardrobe, the chest of drawers, and the night stands, to the bed. In fact, it had the air of an elegant chalet although his house was in the centre of a big city. If Jisung looked over the window, he was able to see several flats, and even, in the background, some skyscrapers. However, Changbin was way closer to him and, in the end, he found himself staring at him. His lower part of the body was covered by a pure white sheet, whereas his hands were stressing the fact he was sleeping, holding the closest cheek to the pillow far from it.

Without thinking about it twice, Jisung caressed the other cheek, looking at him with fond eyes. There are secrets that aren’t secrets, at the beginning. But that, later, we try to draw over them – giving them another space, another shape, another intention or, sometimes, another background, another purpose. We don’t divest ourselves of guilt, sins, because we think that dressing in candor, naivety is convincing enough. Immediately, he withdrew his caress. Changbin’s bare feet touched his, as the elder was stretching himself.

The other paid attention to the whole process, that led Changbin opening his eyes. They found Jisung, who couldn’t let his eyes off them. Apparently, his eyes were shy: they immediately looked away, as Changbin’s bold pupils were still gazing them intensely. The young man seemed not noticing what his eyes had; he stretched his lips, enclosing Jisung in a hug. “Good morning”

Jisung’s legs were interlaced with his, their nose were so close he swore he didn’t breath properly until he felt his lips on his. The kiss went deeper, it tasted just like the ones of the night before; Jisung grabbed his hand, intertwining their fingertips, their arms pointing the ceiling. He breathed a small laugh, while Changbin was distancing. “Good morning” he find the courage to whisper, then.

In around half an hour, they managed to find a place by one of the many tables of the venue Changbin’s parents ran. The room was completely deserted, there was only them sipping milk and eating. Changbin had put on an old t-shirt and the first pair of pants he found, whereas Jisung was wearing the same gurments he’d worn before. Their table was next to the glass window, from which the indoor garden was visible. It was magical. The place was. Or maybe it was Changbin’s presence. Jisung couldn’t tell. He pressed his lips together, there was something wrong with the milk. He dunked a cookie into it, to forget that weird sensation. And maybe it was just him, but he could swore he saw some crumbles floating in his milk. What if the chickens were coming home to roost? Instinctively, he held the other’s hand, who pleased the interaction.

“Did you sleep well?” asked Changbin. Jisung nodded, not leaving his hand. They weren’t in front of each other, they had always preferred staying next to each other; a much convenient positions for touching, kissing.

“I did. Not that we’ve slept much, though.” commented he, in a chuckle. He couldn’t tell where those mornings, that intimacy came from, but the most important thing was that it was there. The most important thing was that he could label… whatever he was feeling. Getting on new clothes was way easier than face the old ones.

“I don’t know about you, but by now I’m used to it. I must have slept, like, ten hours in three days.” giggled he, swallowing a spoon of milk and cereal. “This place is were all the problems started.”

“What do you mean?” Jisung tilted his head, not understanding what his… boyfriend? was saying. The latter shrugged, miming a movement that could both mean _I guess you missed something_ and _Oh, yeah, right, you don’t know yet_.

“A few months ago I threw this party and invited some people. At the time, I would hang out a lot with Felix and, well, he’d just bumped into Seungmin, so he insisted for me to invite him too. Seungmin brought Jeongin as well, as far as I know he couldn’t stand Hyunjin and the rest is history.”

That party. Jisung remembered the day, it had been one of the last times he visited Minho to bring him some medicines that could ease his usual migraine. He remembered the lights off, Minho hiding his head under the covers. He remembered undress him of that layer, resting a hand on his pulsing, hot forehead. Then, Minho placing his hand on his, wrapping it in his grasp. That, that was what the most intimate he had experienced. And he had to bury it as deep as he could. “Sounds nice”

Changbin winced, “Yeah, why not…”, after that he pulled away his hand from Jisung’s. The mind of the letter, however, was focused on the name of Felix. What did it mean? “It’s in the past.”

Yes, everything that party owned was in the past. It was no longer theirs. “You loved Felix a lot, didn’t you?”

The young man shook his head, giggling, “What’s wrong with you people? You’re so obsessed with love.” he drank what remained of his cup of milk, but Jisung wasn’t hungry anymore, “No, I didn’t love him. Not at all. I’ve already talk about this with Jeongin, moreover. Help me out, you’re so obsessed because you’ve been in love?”

The crumbles floating in his own milk were disgusting, Jisung thought. “Once. I guess. He played the transverse flute and I didn’t want to open text books.” sighed he, “When all is said and done, we’d been together for five years…” he gulped down nothing, “Minho. That’s his name.”

“You loved Minho a lot, didn’t you?” all of a sudden, he felt he was talking to a friend, not… whatever they were.

“I’d be liar denying. I loved him with, with all my heart. Who knows, if we hadn’t broken up, we would be together right now.”

Changbin chuckled, “I’ve never had what you guys had.”

“You’ve never been in love?” gasped the younger, perhaps for fear, perhaps for surprise.

“How many times do I have to tell you? I haven’t. Never. I don’t envy you. I’m not interested in that. Not even a little bit.”

Jisung gazed the lips he had kissed, the hands he had hold, confused. “What are we, then?”

“I’ve… That’s hard. Jisung, I’ve never felt something for you. It’s just not me putting my heart in a romantic relationship. It’s, it’s not in my chords. I’m sorry if you misunderstand, I hope you don’t value sex like being in a relationship.” he grabbed two cookies and handed Jisung one, “I’m not stupid, I’ve noticed something’s haunting you. People deal so bad with love. By the way, if you want my advice: understand what you want to do with your heart. I’m sure you know it already, you don’t wanna admit that, though.”

Jisung didn’t respond.

“No problem if we stop at Jeongin’s for a bit, right?”

* * *

“Why are we going to him? We’ll end up being late!” the girl whined, as they were walking through the hallways of the dorm. Seungmin was ahead of her. Their hands were still intertwined, but the young man was walking so fast she was behind him.

“It’s not gonna take long, I just wanna greet Jeongin” comforted her he, looking behind of him. Taalin shrugged, whereas Seungmin caressed with his thumb the back of her hand. The young man wasn’t able to describe how it felt, being with Taalin. Indeed, she was… lively. Taalin made Seungmin rediscover a part of himself he had somewhere along the line. Somewhere that he knew so well. In any event, he couldn’t complain about it. Taalin, Taalin, Taalin… sweet, lively, marvelous, brilliant! Sometimes, losing himself in her visage, he believed there was nothing bad in clinging onto someone; it was his first relationship, and it was great.

“Who’s Jeongin anyways?” and then, there were times like that. There were times when he wondered who the hell he was opening up to. It was the downside – yes, Taalin was outgoing, cheerful, extrovert. Yet, Taalin was as well forgetful, absent-minded, half-interested. Seungmin felt out of place: he remembered every single thing concerning her – from the absurd stories about her childhood between Cairo and Madrid, to the, in her honest opinion, best way to have breakfast. Instead, Taalin seemed not to recall anything about her boyfriend. Of course, she knew how to make him laugh and she knew too well how to bite his lower lip after a kiss. All of that, nevertheless she didn’t know his birthday or who Sulfur was (namely, his beloved dog).

Seungmin stopped in the middle of the corridor, turning towards Taalin, “Don’t you know who Jeongin is?”. He let both of his hands falling, interrupting the contact with his girlfriend. Without any doubt, he had talked about him with her, she had even met him! And, for God’s sake, Jeongin wasn’t just an acquaintance! “He’s my best friend and I want to know how he’s doing.” While Seungmin headed, once more, towards the room, Taalin remained stuck on her feet until she decided to follow him.

Surprisingly, he found at the door the last person he expected to see. There was Felix, leaning on the jamb; both arms and legs crossed. He was the usual Felix, not the Felix of the terrace where they had talked last time. Right away, Seungmin noticed the impudent attitude which dumped into his mannerism and appearance; then, the concealer on his face, a good amount of it on the cheekbone… He smiled bitterly, noticing that. Seungmin and Felix made it on time to exchange a fleeting glance that was soaked with all the questions they both, perhaps, wished they had been able to ask. In a jiffy, Taalin reached them, wrapping his arm around Seungmin’s waist.

She looked at his boyfriend, then at Felix. Confused, she gazed Seungmin again, after which she pretended to understand what was going on, focusing on Felix. “So you’re Jeongin, right?” asked Taalin, in a way that faked worry so well.

Felix tsked, revealing an amused smiled, “Not exactly. Jeongin’s inside, I’m waiting for Changbin and Jisung here.” he shook his head, “But who are you?” demanded he, eyeing her.

Something inside Seungmin was begging Taalin not to say anything, ignoring his question, coming back to be the actually forgetful person she was. _Shut your mouth, shut your mouth._ Fortunately or unfortunately, Felix’s gaze wasn’t graving on him; despite that, he still felt guilty, for whatever reason. His throat was dry, unable to speak. That was, when Changbin and Jisung exited the room with Jeongin.

“Hey Seungmo, what brings you by?” greeted Jeongin, waving his hand. However, Seungmin wasn’t looking at his friend: by then, he was too focused on Felix disappointed expression. “Uh?”

All of a sudden, Seungmin awoke from his own thoughts, “I wanted to know if you’re doing well, hm?” explained he, knowing Jeongin was going to catch the meaning of it. After several years, they knew exactly how to make themselves understood even in the presence of others.

“Pretty fine, I’m helping Changbin with… a thing. How about you? You’re going on a date with Taalin?” asked the youngest without even minding Felix presence, who, Seungmin noticed right away, opened wide his eyes at the word _date_.

“Yes! Actually, we’re also kinda late, but Seungmin – I swear!, loves you so much he wanted to visit you before going to the seaside” exclaimed Taalin showing off her widest smile. The statement seemed to get everyone’s attention and, believe him or not, Seungmin wanted everything but that.

“Old buddy, you start dating and don’t even tell your roommate?” said enthusiastically Jisung, “So rude.”

“Yes, we’re dating! It’s been some weeks now, if I’m not wrong. Uh, baby?” giggled she, taking him by his arm and touching his cheek with the nose, “We’re so happy to be together. Besides, I’m glad to meet all of you. Y’all are definitely the best friends my love could ever have.”

“Well, not all of us are friends.” claimed Felix out of the blue, in a stupid attempt of pretending he had nothing to do with Seungmin, who was feeling extremely uneasy. All of that wasn’t right, he thought, it wasn’t supposed to be like this. He was chained in another space and.. And Felix was in front of him, watching, but he couldn’t reach him.

“Listen baby, I really gotta go now, uh? If you want to stay with your friends, let’s meet at the usual place. What do you say?” whispered Taalin in his ear, the young man nodded. She took leave, smiling at everyone and kissing each cheek. Soon, even Jeongin, Changbin and Jisung told it was time to go for them.

Felix remained at the door’s jamb, minding his business. “You aren’t going helping them?” Seungmin tried to say, as soon as they remained alone.

The elder shook his head, “I’m driving.” said he, as if it was an excuse.

“Lix, I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For … this”

“It’s nothing, isn’t it?” asked Felix rhetorically.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well, a kinda short chapter before what should be the longest chapter in this story... hi everyone!!! luckily, i managed to post chapter 24 on time cause i can't wait to share with you the next one this week, so please look forward to it <33 if you liked or hated this chapter lmk through kudos, comments or on my extra dry [curious cat ](https://curiouscat.me/writinghwang) !!! be careful and see you next week (hopefully)


	25. Home: part I

Jeongin opened his backpack, looking for, among all the stuff there was within, the two sandwiches they had wisely prepared before taking the train that morning.

A month after his sleepless night, summer break started and drained the campus all of its students. Truthfully, Jeongin had other plans for his first summer break as a college student: he was supposed to leave with Seungmin on the first day of vacation and, actually, spend his summer like he had done for approximately twelve years. Apparently, life had other plans for him. On the first day of holiday or on the last day of courses, Jeongin saw Changbin packing in five minutes all of his stuff and greeting him – _See you in a month!_ ; not even an hour later he saw Seungmin leaving and taking the bus for their town of birth. Little by little, everyone left and everyone seemed to have really important appointments at home. Eventually, three days after the huge emptying, Jeongin swallowed and found the enough amount of courage that permitted him to go and talk to Hyunjin, who hadn’t come back home either.

That’s how after a whole week of holiday, he and Hyunjin were sitting in front of each other (the elder’s legs were longer than his, so they inevitably touched his knees), making for his aunt’s hometown. They spent together the whole day and, at sunset and carrying their backpacks, awaited the last train for the town to arrive. The rush of the day – closing the suitcase, cleaning up the whole room, returning the housing keys – made him forget why he was leading there. The landscape ran messily from their sight, even if there wasn’t something to admire belonging to that barren plain.

Hyunjin clung on to his backpack on his lap. Over the shrikieng noise of a running train, Jeongin wondered what crossed Hyunjin’s mind; how they managed to find themselves there that day, why their knees bumping into each other at each shake wasn’t enough proximity and where Hyunjin actually wanted to conceal his doubts, his worries, his opinions. The truth was that Hyunjin drawing closer to him, keeping him close effertolessly, acting like nothing had ever happened misled Jeongin. He had let bygones be bygones, but when shock of something else had passed, he just asked himself why Hyunjin was acting like that and, more importantly, why he felt necessary that unsettled, unexpected need.

So, Jeongin grabbed the two sandwiches they had made themselves, reading carefully what was written on the aluminum foil that topped the food. “Tomato and mozzarella or ham and cheese? You can choose.” asked he, mentally hoping his friend wasn’t about to pick tomato and mozzarella.

“I’ll go for the first one.” affirmed Hyunjin, taking it off Jeongin’s hands, whereas the latter just remained with an upset grin on his face. Noticing it, though he had already unwrapped and bit the butty, a pout arose on Hyunjin’s visage, offering the younger his half-eaten meal.

Jeongin waved his hand in surrender, “Nevermind.” said then, unwrapping his own meal. With the excuse of eating (what, in the end, he was doing for real), sometimes his eyes fell in front of him, on Hyunjin. The young man was, then, mindlessly, curled up on his eat; the head placed on the dirty surface of the train window, watching desolate plains disappear under the rapid speed of the vehicle they were on. Jeongin saw Hyunjin’s hair disappearing under his hand that marely wanted to fix his own hair.

“Are you tired?” demanded, out of the blue, the elder who seemed to have got aware of Jeongin staring at him. Jeongin shrugged, shaking his head. The next stop was theirs. Instead of shaking his head, Jeongin would have loved sharing his feelings, saying thank you or something that wouldn’t sound dumb, clumsy, pointless. He reasoned it wasn’t the right moment. Hyunjin giggled, “You look like you’re absolutely about to fall asleep, though.”

“You too.” sighed he bitterly, yawning. As he closed his eyes with the sandwich still in his grasp, Jeongin found the answer for one of his questions; Hyunjin was weirdly able to make him feel at home even on a filthy regional train.

About fifteen minutes later, the train stopped at a small city Jeongin used to spend most of his childhood afternoons at. The sky was still quite clear thanks to the summer, and even his tiredness seemed to disappear once he was out of the train. He and Hyunjin got through together the streets he used to walk every day, going past the shops he, his aunt and his mum used to visit. Crossing them with Hyunjin was new, unforseen; not even Seungmin had aver accompanied him through those streets. And… And Hyunjin was interested, he didn’t stop Jeongin talking about an anedocte regarding his childhood. On the contrary, he encouraged him to keeping on speaking by asking him questions. Jeongin’s heart felt less heavy, that way.

His aunt lived on the last floor of a modern flat in the heart of the city. The doorbells were enamelled in a yellow gold and its surnames were elegantly carved on it. Jeongin rang it, waiting for his auntie to answer. As expected, she opened the front door. The two young men got into the narrow elevator, which took them on the highest floor. When they arrived, a pre-announced sound reminded them to get out. Yet, Jeongin’s feet were stuck on the elevator.

“Go ahead” encouraged him Hyunjin again, making him room to exit. Jeongin nodded, following Hyunjin’s piece of advice.

Soon, he found his aunt in front of him. He was glad noticing nothing of her had changed since the last time they encountered each other. The welcoming smile was the same, such as the nails, always made stylish by a red nail polish; the wrists, weighed down by many silver bracelets. The appearance was, indeed, the one of a middle aged business woman, her presence striked respect and even a bit intimidation for the people who didn’t know her. However, the eyes were slightly rounder than normal and of a rare green. Although the colour was different, the emotions the aunt’s and the nephew’s eyes showed off were the same.

Hence, the instinct of wrapping her in a tight hug had only been natural to Jeongin. Next to him, the woman almost seemed a little girl, such she was short. But Jeongin had been the one who got lost in her and the one who let himself being lulled. “I missed you so much.” whispered he in her aunt’s ear, as they were breaking away their hug. Right after, he invited Hyunjin to step in.

A sudden sensation surprised him, while Hyunjin and his aunt were shaking hands, telling their names. It lasted when Chaewon (this was her name) showed Hyunjin the kitchen, the dining room, the bedrooms, the living room and even the two bathrooms. It lasted when Chaewon grabbed from the small storage room a waterbed and told Hyunjin to sleep on the bed, instead. Despite it was the first time he felt something similar, there was some kind of familiar in all of that.

They placed the waterbed in the spare room which, more often, was Jeongin’s bedroom, next to the single bed. There, they also left their backpacks. His aunts left too, reminding them to try to make themselves at home and to sleep well.

As soon as she closed the door, Jeongin reached the wardrobe, opening it in order to find what he was looking for. A suitcase. When he’d been called, Chaewon made clear that, from then on, her house was going to be their home and that he was going to find a suitcase in the wardrobe and his stuff already placed in the room. That was even more absurd than being there with Hyunjin. Even though he had spent most of his life there, it was far-fetched to consider it his home.

“Your aunt is lovely.” began Hyunjin, who was distractly looking around the room, “No wonder you love her so much.”

“She’s like a second mum.” admitted lightheartedly the other, “Who do you think have tidied up all of this? She looks after me.”

Hyunjin sat on the waterbed, “Should I sleep here?” asked he with a smile.

“Forget it. You’re sleeping on the bed.” said he uncompromisingly, “You don’t want my _auntie_ to get mad, do you?”

“Wouldn’t dream of.” by then, the night had fallen. Hyunjin tied his hair in a low bun, as he always did when he was about to go to sleep. Jeongin was unpacking his suitcase, rubbing his eyes every now and then. Truthfully, tiredness was prevailing. “You’re asleep on your feet! Go to sleep, _honeybunny._ ”

“You’re making fun of me now, Hwang?”

Hwang shrugged, “Just saying.” sighed he, keeping on gazing the younger, “For real, though. Take a rest, you’ll fix everything tomorrow.”

At the word _tomorrow_ , Jeongin tensed up, but eventually he went with his pyjama to the bathroom and let Hyunjin get changed in the bedroom. As he had put it on and, with the opportunity, brushed his teeth, Jeongin watched his face, his bare face in the mirror. By dint of looking at himself, every part of his visage seemed badly-glued on his pale skin; he looked monstrous, a rare terrifying creature on the verge of extinction. Who knows what they were going to think! A deformed kid, who’d been dumped by his own mother. He tried not to think about it: study, latin, college, Changbin, Seungmin and Taalin, rush and, of course, Hyunjin had filled up his last days of college. Many were the excuses to live as if nothing had ever happened. Nevertheless, when he found himself alone, he couldn’t help it.

He looked away and reached the dining room, where his aunt was stuck on her laptop working; her glasses, worn on the tip of the nose, helped her reading. Jeongin walked in, sitting next to her. In that moment, he felt like a seven-year-old going to his parents’ bedroom to inform them, of course, in the middle of the night, that he had just thrown up. The fact was that he was already a young adult and he hadn’t thrown up and he hadn’t, any more at least, two parents to call frightned.

“I’m worried.” exhaled he; his arms crossed on the table, his chin resting on them, like a puzzled dog.

Chaewon stopped typing, focusing on her baby, “It’s gonna be fine. Go get some rest, I imagine Hyunjin wants to sleep as well.”

“But your family…!” tried Jeongin to protest.

“Honeybunny, _our_ family is gonna love you. They’re so excited to meet you and, just in case, you have me and your friend, hm?”

“I guess so.” nodded Jeongin, forcing himself to stand up. “Goodnight, auntie.”

“Jeongin” she called him out, “Where are you going without kissing me goodnight?” complained she, tapping on her cheek. Jeongin gave her aunt a kiss. “Better now.”

When Jeongin came back to his bedroom, Hyunjin was opening the window. Jeongin ignored the elder, going straight to bed. On the other hand, Hyunjin didn’t speak, restricting himself to only surpass the waterbed and cover himself under the sheets. Seeing that, Jeongin thought he was completely crazy: he had opened the window because of the heat, but he stayed under the covers. The little noise of the mattress made Jeongin turn towards Hyunjin, finding him looking as well. Still, he’d been the one who pulled back first, turning towards the wall.

From the outside, Jeongin could only hear motorbikes darting in the dead of night. Instantly, the feeling of sleepiness disappeared. The truth slapped him on the face, he wasn’t there for holiday, making Hyunjin discover all the places he loved nor getting used to a new normality. He was there to meet his relatives. And he wasn’t able to understand how he was feeling. Deep down, he had been waiting for that day since he was a toddler and when the day had come, he felt so scared. He had spent his life relying on a plastic bracelet; he got mad when he speculated he had lost it, yet he found himself wondering whether a dozen of people could replace the only person who showed up as the only one he would ever need.

Ironically, the person who had been wavering his certainties was sleeping dreamlessly and knew him better than the people who Jeongin shared flash and bones with. Again, he wondered what led Hyunjin accepting his sudden request a few days before – guilt? Grief? Then, he remembered the way he had clutched at him that morning, how he had been ready to comfort him and how interested he seemed to get to know every part of him. Perhaps Jeongin didn’t know what it was, but, for sure, it had to be something. Something that he was ready as well to look for whether he lost him, as he had already done. Surrounded by the dark, Jeongin figured out a piece of what made his stomach unsettled and the nerve endings that feed his craving of having the other by his side. Perhaps he was in love with him, although he had no idea of how the word love worked.

“Hyunjin? Are you sleeping?” whispered the young man, who couldn’t still sleep properly. He looked for his figure under the dark. The only visible part was his back, lit by the moon. Hyunjin turned, facing Jeongin.

“No, how about you?” asked he right away in a whisper.

“Me neither.” claimed the other, “I don’t know if it feels right.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know, I got a bad feeling.” yes, something wasn’t sitting right. An unpleasant sensation was with him since they had got on the train, as if it was an omen of a disaster. He couldn’t get it out of his head.

“It must be just a little fear. It’s gonna be okay, I’m sure your family will be exactly like Chaewon.” said he, biting his lower lip, thinking about what to say next, “Jeongin, concerning the kiss… do you wanna talk about it now?”

He reflected for a bit, before saying, “It depends on what you wanna say.”

“No, I mean we are, you’re fine about it?”

“I’ve been until now.” considered Jeongin, “And you told me everyone gets wasted someday, didn’t you?”

“You know I didn’t mean it.”

“What did you mean, then? What’s made you acting like that?”

“I don’t know.”

“Sure? You look like you always know everything. You know what to say, how to act, you even know how to seem interested without being obsessive or talktative! I can’t stand you.” joked Jeongin. But although he was laughing, he meant every single word he had said. He envied Hyunjin somehow. Still, a kind of confusion arose staying with him.

“Trust me, I don’t.” silence feel between them, a thing Hyunjin minded to change as soon as possible, “Thank you for, uh, taking me with you. It’s… it’s important.”

“I just- I don’t want other people leaving me right now. And it’s not that I’d ever leave you, but… I realised I don’t wanna let you go. I wanna stay with you.”

“Me too.”

“And for real, aren’t you dying from heat down there?”

“It’s amazing.” remarked Hyunjin, “Wanna try?”

“Please, I don’t wanna be all sweaty tomorrow.” they looked at each other with fond eyes, as if they were understanding each other without saying anything, “Hyunjin, can I?”

“You’re always asking as if I were able to tell you no.”

In the death of night, Jeongin managed to find his space in a single bed during a hot summer night, extremely close to an already-sweaty Hyunjin. In the end, Jeongin didn’t mind at all. Hyunjin was his favourite place to find refuge in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi everyone, i don't know how but i'm here one day EARLY!!! this is just the first part though, i hope to post the second one on monday already (it should have been a single chapter this one, just so you know). as always, let me know what you think, i appreciate everything!! and we're so close to 2000 hits??? ik it's not about number but it's still unbelievable <33 write to me on [ curious cat ](https://curiouscat.me/writinghwang) !!! see you in a few days<33


	26. Home: part II

Chaewon opened the oven, pulling out the crunchy chicken. Its skin was gold and well-enough roasted, almost ready to debut on her family’s table. Jeongin took shelter in the kitchen, taking the leap when his aunt asked him to help with the lunch. He was aware it meant burding with cut the kitchen, but everything was better than standing that awkwardness.

Firstly, he discovered his relatives were as regular as a clockwork. The rendez-vous was set for midday and at 12:00 p.m., they rang the doorbell. Jeongin followed his aunt’s lead, queueing up. As Chaewon was turning the key, Jeongin called for Hyunjin to come – maybe for common courtesy, maybe for awe, he was going to meet them anyways. Instead, Hyunjin preferred to remain on the background resting on a radiator as if he had nothing to do with that situation. In normal times, Jeongin would have insisted; however, it didn’t come to a normal time, consequently he gave up. He was excited, and excitement confounded amazingly fear, expectation, delight. At the doorstep, he found a group of, Jeongin counted mentally, seven people. He started watched from left to right, from top to bottom. There were a couple of elderly – a woman that resembled his mum, a man who looked more like his aunt, a man on his fourties, a woman around the same age of the man, two kids, a girl and a boy, standing next to each other. Jeongin struggled to see another figured on the background, but the grizzled man was there as well smiling at him. It was… magnificent. That’s the first word Jeongin had been able to come up with. All those people could be complete strangers, he didn’t even know his names! Yet, there was something that linked all of them and… and him, too!

As soon as they sat by the table, Jeongin had already presented himself; he tried his best, at least. He was as excited as nervous, so his hands were trembling, his voice sounded dreadfully shrill, his legs were bouncing and all he was thinking about was make a good impression. He wasn’t even doing so bad, after only five minutes they had memorized their names: he learnt the kids, who were his cousins, were called Kongdae – he was a pretty active boy, always messing around and giving his family nightmares, and Kyungsoo, who was a little quiet girl. Then, there were their parents: Chungho, his uncle, and Saejin who, automatically, was his aunt. They minded to make him at ease, asking him random questions about college, hobbies and interests. As well, he learnt they were much younger than Chaewon and that they were fond of travelling – they even showed him the pictures of their trip in India. Whilst the two elderlies presented themselves as grandma and grandpa, Jeongin found out their names were respective Jinkyong and Dongyul. The latter was a smiling man of very few words, whereas his grandma was much more talkative. It was clear she loved knowing everything and everyone, not by chance she’d been the one to look straight in Hyunjin’s eyes and ask him who he was. Hyunjin was taken aback, until then he had managed to go unnoticed behind Jeongin, hence the younger stopped him from saying anything damaging and explained, with a so fake excuse Hyunjin had to hold back the laughter, that he was a friend of his whose home had flooded due to a broken pipe of his flat. Result: he needed to stay with him for awhile. Still, the excuse convinced everyone. The only one who didn’t talk much was Junhee, about who Chaewon told was a distant cousin.

The impact had been better than expected, the kids were curious and, helped by the wholesomeness of childhood, considered Jeongin part of their family since the first minute. Jeongin glimpsed the adults were almost as excited as him, though they were way more moderated and peaceful, indeed they wanted to make him feel at ease. However, Jeongin, somewhere hidden, felt not everything was at its place. Probably, he wasn’t ready to see those people as family, although he craved for that. He craved for having a big, wide family to spend festivities, go on holiday, spend Sundays with. Now that he had what was looking for, he wondered why he needed that. He felt out of place, no matter how everyone was trying to prove him wrong.

That’s how he took the leap when his aunt asked for help in the kitchen. Without blinking, he left the noisy living room to reach Chaewon, who was taking the chicken out of the oven. She put the red-hot baking tray on the hob, making him understand he had to cut the chicken. Hence, Jeongin grabbed the kitchen scissors and started cutting it.

“So, how is it gone so far?” started his aunt, washing her hands quickly. Jeongin opened his mouth to confirm everything was alright, they were all nice and even Hyunjin, after he had been asked question about his fake house and flood, chatted with them as if he was meant to be there. Then, Jeongin realized that, in all fairness, he wasn’t completely meant to be there. He closed his mouth, searching for another response.

“Quite well. They’re making me at ease.” he chose to lie, and even decided to find his choice more than understandable. What was he supposed to do, say no? It was the day one of the new life, basically he was a giant newborn introduced to the basis of his life. Meanwhile, he cut the drumsticks for the kids because, well, they were kids and deserved the best part of chicken. Moreover, if the chicken in question was the famous chicken of aunt Chaewon (rigorously served with baked potatoes), then the thing became essential. “The drumsticks are for the kids.”

“You’re already influencing them with your childhood obsessions?” joked she, putting those parts and the potatoes in the dishes. “And hurry up with that chicken, we gotta eat it heated.” Jeongin did accordingly, cutting the chicken as fast as he could. “How’s Hyunjin, by the way? You wouldn’t leave him alone with strangers, would you?”

“Not that I know them much better.” muttered the young man, who saw his aunt nodding as he was putting the food in the dishes, “He can stand that. I mean, he doesn’t seem uneasy.” the woman sat on a chair of the table nearby, to listen his nephew better. For a moment, Jeongin felt kinda under question.

“You know, he’s really a good friend doing this for you. I’m not sure everyone would do this.” she said, making Jeongin swallow instinctively, “He must care about you a lot.”

Jeongin thought of how sweaty he had woken up that morning. Their legs touching each other, his over the covers and Hyunjin’s under the layer, them sharing the narrow space of a single bed. Half-awake, he remembered Hyunjin snoring and himself waking him up to stop, he needed five more minutes to sleep. It didn’t work, which was weird, because among the two of them the elder wasn’t the heavy sleeper; instead sleepy Hyunjin considered Jeongin a teddy bear, hugging him tightly as if he was a plush or a pillow. “I guess he does.”

“Now take those dishes over there, they’re waiting.” ordered Chaewon, ending abruptly the conversation.

In the living room, conversations continued as if he never went away. The siblings couldn’t care less about the food, reason why their parents had to call out them once or twice until the sat down diligently. The adults were talking about something, as far as Jeongin could hear, similar to local elections. Topic that, for obvious reasons, got Hyunjin leaning boringly his chin on the palm of the hand. Therefore, the young man hurried handing out all the plates, leaving the last one for Hyunjin.

He sat beside him, “Here I am. Survived?” asked he, as he was getting closer to the table with his chair. Hyunjin bite some of his potatoes, burning his tongue because they still burned. Seeing the elder’s frown, he laughed loudly in return, catching the family’s attention for a second.

“I doubt I’ll survive now.” breathed out Hyunjin, when he finally gulped down the food. By then, his relatives weren’t watching them anymore. Nevertheless, Jeongin spaced out from Hyunjin, feeling an insistent gaze on him. On them? Firstly, he looked at his right, seeing only the kids, Hyunjin and Saejin eating. By implication, he looked in front of him seeing his uncle Chungho minding his own business; eventually, he looked at his left, finding Junhee staring at him.

Junhee was… silent. He was the only one who didn’t speak to present himself and he hadn’t even tried to step in the conversations of the meal. What he knew about Junhee, he owed it to his aunt who, at breakfast, had briefly told him Junhee wasn’t exactly friendly or outgoing but that he was a good person. Well, he could confirm Junhee was the opposite of a social butterfly, but it was pretty soon to say whether he was a good person. They simply weren’t getting to know each other.

“Innie? Earth calls Jeongin?” Hyunjin took him back to reality, so he instantly shook his head like he wanted a thought to come off his shoulder. People were distranctingly talking to each other, whereas Hyunjin was trying to catch his attention. The family day was ideal, whilst somehow he still felt judged, pointed out.

“Yeah? Sorry I, I spaced out for a moment.” muttered he, caressing his thighs. Kyungsoon and his brother Kangdae had come back playing, the dishes were almost empty. The meal was going to an end and he still had all of his food to eat. He sipped some water. He felt strange, just like the night before when he was going to sleep. The food didn’t actually bother him.

“Your granny wanted to talk to you.” informed him Hyunjin, pointing the woman with the hand holding the knife. Jinkyong was radiant, a woman who didn’t feel the weight of her years, the centre of the family. It wasn’t family if Jinkyong wasn’t there, Jeongin understood when no one dared to eat, unless she signed off. His grandma, his much dreamed grandma! Without doubt, the person he wanted to meet the most. For a long time, albeit indirectly, she had been the thread that linked him to his as well much dreamed family. They were there, in front of his eyes. And she was there. However, neither Jeongin nor Hyunjin noticed that the latter accidentally, raising his arm, made the light-material sleeve of his shirt lower, showing off the bracelet.

Oh. The bracelet again.

That damn bracelet, the thing Jeongin had been dwelling on for several years. A cheap, blastic blue bracelet, probably bought somewhere forgotten by God in the past century. A bracelet which, Jeongin was sure, had been forgotten in a dusty shelf of his grandma’s home until it was in Jeongin’s hand. A bracelet that had always been kept as if it was a precious treasure he was against all logic jealous of. Of course, until he lost it in a bathroom of a venue during a party he didn’t even want to attend. Thereby, the bracelet fell into Hyunjin’s hands; as soon as he found out, Jeongin shouted, cried his heart out to have it back. For what? Gifting it to him, who hadn’t put it off ever since.

“Oh Jeongin, I was wondering if you would like a pair of earrings.” said she softly, giggling. Jeongin thought the scene was cute, whenever she laughed, her pupils disappeared under her skin. “Though I’ve seen you don’t like jewellery in general, since you gave it to your friend.”

“Well, I… My ears aren’t pierced, I’m so sorry not to accept. And” mumbled he, looking at Hyunjin to find some kind of reassurance, “That’s a long story.” ended he his troubled sentence, scratching his neck in insecurity.

Jinkyong nodded, as if she had understood a subliminal meaning she should be aware of, “Family” announced the elderly woman, clapping her hands, “It’s story time. You’re gonna hear a story I’ve never recounted.” After not even a second, the attention was on her. Well, apart from Junhee, whose gaze was still weighing on Jeongin, making him uncomfortable. In any case, Jinkyong adjusted her glasses on the nose, sighing before starting the story, “1963. I wasn’t even twenty and the war I’ve lived was something I didn’t want to remember. They, uh, they were difficult times; still, it was my youth and I love to remember it as the best period of my life. As you know, I used to live in a little town by the sea.” Jeongin didn’t know, “It counted, I don’t remember, not even 200 people at the time. Yet, summer was my favourite part of the year because it brought occasional tourists, families that came to the seaside for a one-day trip. The beach filled up with people even though it could be for an afternoon, it was the summer of 1963 when I met…”

“Grandpa?” the little Kyungsoo asked, turning her head towards her grandma.

The woman giggled, miming a _You’re so naïve, little darling_ , “That was when I met a boy around my age, if I’m not wrong his name was Kangdae: powerful.” explained she and Jeongin understood why his aunt took after her mum, they both had a big passion for names and their meaning, “He was. He was the most gorgeous guy I’d seen so far. He was part of one of the many families that went by the seaside for a day. We got to know each other and he came back the following week, and the week after that, and the week after that. All summer, until…” she stared at the wall, lost, “It was 2nd September. Kangdae came by the seaside for the last time, he told me he was moving far away, so he gave me the bracelet you have now.” said she, pointing Hyunjin who seemed surprised that a plastic bracelet had a similar story and that could last so long. “I fear he never came back and if he did, we hadn’t had the chance to meet because I already had Dongyul and my family with Chaewon and Chungho. Well, it’s not much but that’s the story, I thought my eldest grandson should have it.”

Jeongin looked down at his wrists, suddenly realizing not even his grandma, Jinkyong, wanted his mother as daughter. Obviously, she meant no harm, everyone finds their way to heal and Jeongin couldn’t blame it. He reasoned it must have been new, another thing to get adapted to, inhabit on the other side of the ocean. As he learnt to see his everything without a wider sense of family, they learnt to distance themselves from harm as well. And he was left with the remains of the chicken, without having tasted it. In the end, he had no idea of what had happened before he was born. Before he could get sad about it, a hand intertwined its own fingertips with his. Just by the gesture, Jeongin perceived it was Hyunjin. His timid, ashamed eyes hadn’t enough courage to gaze him. But it was fine, he squeezed Hyunjin’s hand a little to let him know he noticed and appreciated.

Chaewon and Chungho cleared away the dishes, at which Hyunjin insisted to help because he was the guest among them. The young man didn’t leave Jeongin’s hand as he was standing up, instead he squeezed it too, as if he wanted to say he was leaving for awhile. Then, Jeongin looked at him, feeling the palm of his hand extremely cold out of nowhere. Perhaps, it was because the heat moved to his cheeks, warming him up. Still, the uneasy sensation was round the corner. Junhee seemed reflecting on Jeongin’s face, it was so blatant that the instinct of the young man had been touching his face, to check if a bit of sauce got his mouth dirty.

The grizzled man, a bit taller than Jeongin, slightly gaunt, crossed his arms, leaning completely his back on the chair. Jeongin was scared he was going to say something. Luckily, Saejin saved the situation, offering him some more water. At the sight, her children asked for a glass of water as well and, even if for a few seconds, Jeongin’s mind was all focused on the kids. It was when Kyungsoo received her glass of water, that Junhee spoke, making his heart stumble, “Are you gay?”

Jeongin couldn’t pretend the question wasn’t for him, but he still chose to take his time, concentrating on the water falling from the sink in the kitchen, on Kongdae swallowing his water noisily, on whatever could delay, postpone his answer. Yes, he was gay. And it wasn’t even some astonishing news. He was gay and completely fine, so fine he could say neutral, about it. Unfortunately, the context changed everything. He wasn’t in his safe zone, there weren’t his few, trustworthy friends. He wasn’t at college where, paradoxically, he didn’t think about it because a good amount of people didn’t care. It was the opposite. On the most important day, he was asked his sexuality and he was among people he didn’t know so well but that he did want to become full-fledged his family, because it was what he’d been craving for since he was nine. And… And Junhee was asking him so bitterly whether that skinny, doomed young man who not even his mother wanted, enough to leave him behind as he barely reached the adulthood had also odd taste concerning dating. What was he, a sideshow? All eyes were on him and he felt embarassed. He was ashamed that those apparently nice people would consider him an outcast, a little soul bowed by his traumatic past, raised by two women and oh, of course, _he hadn’t a paternal figure, you shouldn’t be surprised he’s gay now_. Hence, naturally, Jeongin wanted to hide under the table, then under the carpet under the table, and then again under the floor under the carpet. Shame was eating him alive, in fact he wasn’t sure were his voice came from, “Yes, I am.”

An awkward silence fell in the living room. Not even the children dared to break the quiet with an inappropriate question. Redness burned his cheeks, his hands were sweaty than usual. Junhee was eyeing him from head to toe, which reminded Jeongin of the driver he had encountered when he was heading to his former home. “I see. We need to talk.”

Jeongin laughed bitterly, “About what? You’re so curious about the way I get laid?” it came out angrier than needed, causing everyone’s bewilderment. Even Hyunjin’s, who had just come back from the kitchen. Perfect. Now he wasn’t only the weird kid who grew up too soon, he was… Oh God, he was rude, touchy and a troublemaker. “Back off.” said he between his teeth. He left the room, accidentally throwing his shoulder against Hyunjin.

* * *

Jeongin had been sitting for a few minutes now on the floor, in a fetal position. He wasn’t sad, he wasn’t even angry. Just… Upset. Indeed, it was too much people for that day. He minded to slam the door, so that no one was going to kick in. Damn, he couldn’t explain himself why that question upset him so much. How many people had asked him about his sexuality before? At high school, he lost the track at fourty. He was used to it, it had never been a problem; he learnt to gulp down his annoyance. But shame? Where did it came from? Was it the side effect of caring too much?

Chungho opened the door. Verily, Jeongin wasn’t expecting him to come. The sun spread all over the room, it was a wonderful day to hang out. Jeongin was withdrawn, as hidden as he could. The man sat next to him, speaking calmly, “How does it feel?” asked then, his eyes fixed on the closet. Jeongin wondered what his biological uncle was referring to: being attracted to men? Being abandoned? Growing up in a lie? He couldn’t tell whether his question was genuine or not. “I mean, growing up with only two people as the centre of your world.” the nineteen-year-old guy formed a circle with his mouth.

“Hm, it’s the only way I’ve been taught to get adapted to. I was born like that.” he played with his ring, putting it on and off. Although he actually had contacts only with his aunt and his mum, the curiosity hadn’t arosen because there was something missing about them. It was because he felt something missing inside of him. “That’s all.”

“Jeongin, you aren’t born with any malfunction or disease. You’ve been loved since you were born and if you didn’t know about me, Saejin, or my mum and dad it doesn’t mean we didn’t know you. Chaewon couldn’t stop talking about you! We saw you become an adolescent, graduate and begin college. Chaewon loved so much your mum.” hearing that, Jeongin immediately turned his head towards the man, “And, uh, maybe you won’t believe me, but we loved her too. No matter what. She’d been my sister for awhile. You already know this story, though. There’s no need to tell you twice.”

“If you loved her, why didn’t you let her in? It could have been different.” these words slipped out from his mouth, unexpctedly. Chungho sighed, saying that not all the wounds are meant to be healed. On instinct, Jeongin asked himself if his own was one of the most lucky, the ones that heal someday; or if it was, on the other hand, one of the few meant to ache forever. He didn’t mind bleeding, though.

“You’re brave, my nephew. But let me tell you, in your life it’s more likely you’ll meet a Junhee than a Chaewon.” said he as if he was reading a fairytale, “He’s just like that and still part of our family. He needs time, too. See, he has a family, yet he’s the most lonely among us.” Jeongin tsked, it couldn’t be an excuse.

“I felt, damn, I felt so ashamed. He’d been silent for all the lunch, _all_ the lunch, and the only thing he asks is if I’m gay. God forbid!” he was furious. It wasn’t right at all. “When did Kyungsoo cover Kongdae’s ears? When Junhee asked the question or when I answered?” the dad of the kids lowered his gaze, thinking.

“My kids are kids and they didn’t want to hear people arguing. They have their whole life to change their mind and I know they will. On the contrary, Junhee is an adult and he can’t act like that. I hate to tell you, but I’m not the one who should talk to him. I didn’t feel as emberrassed as you and Hyunjin did. It’s your uncle, you should compromise. Go to him and prove him wrong. You’re nineteen and you can change the things.” concluded he, patting his shoulder, “We’re going outside to have an ice cream. Do you want to come?” Jeongin shook his head, “Fair enough, I’ll tell Junhee to stay with you.”

* * *

From his bedroom, Jeongin heard a football match being showed on tv. Chaewon and their family, except for Junhee, went out for an ice cream, leaving them alone with the man. After lunch, Jeongin and Hyunjin didn’t talk much, actually the latter addressed a word to remind him that his aunt had told them they were going to be late and to start preparing dinner at some point. Jeongin spent his time as good as he could: he cleared the table, washed the remaining dishes and load the dishwasher. All of that, under the judgmental gaze of Junhee. Jeongin couldn’t explain what that man wanted, for real.

Right away, he ran to his room. Enough troubles. Hyunjin, that was already there, just asked him whether he could use the bathroom to take a shower. Jeongin told him to go and wash up, he could smell the stink from there. The elder laughed at the joke, although he didn’t seem completely amused. As soon as Hyunjin was far enough not to hear him, Jeongin sighed. It was the moment. Truthfully, he didn’t desire to talk to him; his attitude was more likely to turn his back and keeping on living ignoring Junhee. Still, Chungho wasn’t wrong, from that moment on he was going to be in close contact with everyone – Junhee included. Turning is back was childish, selfish and, why not, pointless.

His courage, however, died in a swallow as he was peeking the person sitting on the sofa of the living room. For whatever reason, the man intimidated him. Or maybe, Jeongin thought, he was just a fake fearless man, the world, whatever it meant, was right! He had always bowed his head, letting a too high wave flood inside of him. Spitting the water in his lungs didn’t make him any better. Those who supported him did nothing but inflated his ego, as if it was a balloon that, sooner or later, would burst. He was weak, definitely too weak for whatever was possibly about to happen. And when he felt fragile, his defense was pretending he wasn’t. Adulthood was just line, his fright was the same of a child.

Junhee looked up at him and Jeongin could only approach. Of course, his relative followed him with his gaze, ordering him silently to sit next to him. The space that before held a table had returned to his primordial form, a normal living room. Jeongin looked at the pieces of furniture, then at the little, tiny, minuscule decorative objects his aunt loved fill the house of. The man moved his hands on Jeongin’s tighs, making him retreat. “Sorry, it wasn’t my intention” mumbled Junhee, pulling back his hand too. Jeongin, if possible, felt even less at ease than two seconds before. On the tv, a football player scored a goal and the shout of the fans replaced the unbearable silence inside the room.

Jeongin rested his elbows against his knees, hiding behind his hands. If he had the possibility of running away, he would have definitely picked it. “Do you like photos?” asked the man, seeking for something in his pockets. Well, he liked them, as everyone did. But as somebody taught him, there was a huge difference between liking and understanding, seeing from their point of view. Jeongin nodded.

From his pocket, Junhee pulled out a black and white photo. Did he concerned his family? Maybe his mum, or the whole family, Jeongin assumed. He frowned: the photo was blurry, black, there was only a little white stain, which was blurry as well, as if to ruin the balance of the photo. But it wasn’t a photo, Jeongin understood as he’s been handed the image. It was an ultrasound. That stain was a human, a living person, it breathed. What was the point, though? Was Junhee a future dad? Was he married to a much younger woman than him? And why did he choose to tell him so suddenly? He tsked, perhaps he knew, “What’s that? You’re trying to make clear what I’m losing dating a man? Or, since you’re a good dad, you always take with you the ultrasound of the time you discovered you were going to be a father? Am I wrong? No, no, wait. You wanna make me see the real love my aunt and my mum never gave me!”

What sounded so obvious, reasonable, once it had been out of his mout seemed horribly meaningless. Junhee looked down at the image the young man was holding, as if he was the one who had been stabbed in the back. Under his thumb, even a so intimidating man was minuscule. Jeongin handed the ultrasound back to Junhee, who refused. “Turn it.” said he so harshly that Jeongin didn’t hesitate to follow his order. Fate was making fun of him. There wasn’t any other explanation. A brief letter in the back, written with black ink.

Jeongin read out loud, his voice trembling, “ _4 th May 2000, Thursday. Junhee, you knew as well it couldn’t last long. I ask you to forgive and forget me, and all the passion that invested our bodies. I’ve been feeling bad and that’s what turned out. A baby, can’t you see? A baby! Forget about me for good._ _Yang Eui._ ” Yang Eui, her name repeated in his mind again and again. Yang Eui, his mum. That’s what she had said when she found out she was pregnant. He turned out, in a twist of fate. He ruined the games: _I’m pregnant, no more little meetings._ A home wrecker. Because of those thoughts, Jeongin forgot what the text also meant.

His father.

He was right in front of him and Jeongin wondered why that day everything was going wrong. “You’re… my dad?” his lips hesited to talk, they were scared as well. “You’re my dad!? That’s crazy” yelled he, standing up, leaving the ultrasound falling on the floor, “You’ve, you’ve been my dad for all this time and… And you never dared to show up! I can’t believe, I don’t wanna believe, all my dad felt like to say the first time he met me was worrying about if I dated a man. You knew everything, holy shit! Did the thought that maybe, just maybe, it was enough cross your mind? I would have…” he stopped, looking at his hands in search of words, “I would have been the happiest person on Earth. I can’t explain why now I’m so disappointed and furious.”

His biological dad stood up too, touching Jeongin’s hands. He pulled back. “Jeong-il… Listen-”

“Jeong-il.” He whispered, tapping his feet on the floor, “I’m such a fool. What was I expecting? Twenty years can’t be replaced in a day. Love can’t be replaced with… whatever.” he swallowed, avoiding his father, “You know what? I’m tired. It’s too much all at once.” eventually, he sighed, “Yesterday I didn’t even know who you are and in a matter of a day and I went from considering you an uncle to discovering you’re my father. I need time. You had twenty years to prepare yourself.” He hated how he seemed to have hurt Junhee.

“I don’t hate you.” affirmed the man, then, “I don’t hate you because you’re gay.”

Jeongin tried to smile, failing, “That’s the first thing you wanted to ensure, though. Just… I hated myself reading that note from my mum. You were- It doesn’t make sense.” muttered he, “You were cousins and… This story is so complicated. Why are you doing this?” he looked up at him, finding a gaze Jeongin wasn’t still ready to decipher. “I’m sorry, I’m not ready. Not at all.” Finished Jeongin, walking him to the door.

Around an hour later, Jeongin decided to prepare dinner. His aunt was so tired from the day, that she went to bed right away. Instead, Hyunjin was working on his computer by the table in the kitchen, while the younger was cutting some carrots. He wasn’t sure whether Hyunjin heard something or not, but if he did, thanks God, he didn’t bring up the subject. Saying that he was stunned would be an euphemism. His mind had set in motion a defensive system not to break down in a jiffy.

The sharp sound of the knife was the only noise that could be heard in the room. Jeongin’s thoughts were wandering around. In the last thirty minutes, he had learnt Hyunjin couldn’t use the laptop without a pair of glasses on and he asked himself if it was because he used to spend too much time on it as a kid or because he had an eye disease; he learnt Hyunjin could be extremely silent when it came to college but, he reasoned again, he had been pretty quiet since they had lunch. When he wanted to free his mind, Hyunjin came in, in every thought he created. That was, until he felt the blade of the knife on his index. Immediately, he brought the finger on his lips, trying to make it bleed as less as possible. He sighed, it wasn’t his day. He put quickly a plaster on it, and finished cutting the carrots, making them stir-fry.

As if it was needed, Jeongin sat next to Hyunjin, who persued editing a photo. He even gave him a peck on his cheeks, so miserable he was that day. Hyunjin smiled in return, squeezing the other’s cheeks, he giggled, “You’re stressed, you should eat and rest in the right way.”

“I’m on a cold streak today, Hyunie.” said he pouting, while he was stealing his friend’s hands and playing with his fingertips. “I thought everything was going to end, that night. Was it too much to ask? That everything would get settled?” the elder turned off the computer, inviting Jeongin to sit on his lap.

“I’ve heard everything and I can only imagine” whispered Hyunjin, his chin on Jeongin’s shoulder, “It’s a whole mess, not what you deserve at all.”

“I’ve never had problem telling out loud I’m gay, hm? I think you understand me.” began Jeongin, “It didn’t hurt me, it pissed me off and.. And I was ready to punch him in the face.” joked he, laughing bitterly, “What harmed was… He’s my father. It made no sense at all. I felt a home wrecker!”

“No way. Home wreckers turn their back from problems. You don’t. More importantly, home wreckers decide to ruin something, you didn’t have the chance.”

“But still- I don’t know, parents are supposed to know you, love you and, well, he didn’t even know my name! How can someone love me this way? Why? He arrived, handed me an old ultrasound. Breaking news: I have my dad in front of my eyes.” his voice broke down a little, but he didn’t mind, “Perhaps love isn’t just for me.”

“I don’t believe so. Maybe you didn’t find love where people usually do, but this doesn’t mean nobody loves you. Think about Seungmin, Minho, Changbin. Think about your aunt, your new family. Think about me. We all love you. You gotta let others love you.” rebuted Hyunjin, wrapping his arms around the younger’s waist. “Don’t run away.”

“I’m telling you this too, you silly. Still,” said he in a giggle, “Let me go prepare the dinner, otherwise you’ll starve.”

No, nothing went right on the most important day of his life. However, Jeongin thought he could handle it if that was the epilogue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi !! second time rewriting this note i'm EXHAUSTED. 6k words in a span of two days i think i'm gonna die my friends. so please !!!! lmk know your thoughts below in the comments or on curious cat (i'm too lazy to link, the nick is always writinghwang). hope you've liked it and take care <333


	27. Summer Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> !!! cw// mention of sexual assault !!!

Concentration. In two months inside the Sacred Heart conservatory, this is what Minho had learnt. Concentration and diligence. From the moment he woke up, until he went to bed. Even summer wasn’t bringing the common air of carefreeness. The days began and ended between the narrow walls of the academy. The city he was, by then, living in was cold and unwelcoming; no matter how much sun could shine through the wide glass windows. His old trasnverse flute was his only friend he had no intention to leave, although the orchestra leader had admonished the young man to get rid of the old instrument, but Minho had always refused.

Sacred Heart’s rooms were single and, with time, he noticed he was one of the few aspiring musicians not coming home at the week-end. In fact, after Friday’s session the conservatory was awfully empty. Not that it was different through the week, the students weren’t what could be called friendly. Most of them lived there and, as well, were loaded. He found out the natives, as he had fun calling them, had already attended the educational institutes connected to the Sacred Heart and known each other for several years. On the other hand, people like Minho who joined the academy seemed to be part of another system inside the conservatory. The occasions of establish friendships were few. For the most of the day they were busy practising; he couldn’t deny he was getting better day by day, but when at night he locked the door of his small room, he wondered if it was worth the hassle.

However, the annual concert of mid-summer brought another mood inside the prestigious Sacred Heart conservatory. Many famous artists arrived to play at their concert and only during those days Minho got aware of where he was. He wasn’t attending an afterschool club, he was studying at one of the most prestigious academy of the country. The latin dictionary was on his night-stand collecting dust. Thinking just two months before he was attending those eternal Latin phonology classes was unbelievable.

The concert of mid-summer, apart from bringing famous artists, gifted the students a more relaxed environment after classes. The downside were the increase of practice hours, still Minho couldn’t complain; when they were practising at the theatre and wasn’t the turn of the pupils, he had the chance to listen to the compositions of astounding musicians and marvelous orchestras.

Minho, in the morning, took lessons with the transverse flute department. And just like every morning, he was standing in front of his arragements in a bare room of the institute playing for the umpteenth time the same composition. The orchestra leader always managed to walk around the room, inspecting each student carefully. Minho was the average. He’d been scolded once or twice, admonished to play better but, at the end of the day, he wasn’t any less compared to other students. Then, there were the good ones. The good ones were brilliant, it wasn’t a secret that some of them were some kind of child prodigy, admitted to the most important orchestras all over the world and were at the Sacred Heart just to perfect their already glorious talent and add that academy at the long list of the ones they used to attend. For little talents like his, being there was an honour. Even being scolded was something he had to be thankful for, it was the only possible way to learn.

The maestro was introducing them to the symphony they were going to play for the concert in a bit more than two weeks, when a knock on the wooden door interrupted the starting lesson. Kim Hangyeol was the responsible of the presevervation of students’ private life within the conservatory. Basically, he oversaw the exit and the return of the students after the weekend or, for those who weren’t part of the native élite, the exit and the return after a visit to their parents or friends. For example, Minho had to deal with Kim Hangyeol to visit Jeongin and Seungmin. Other tasks of the responsible of preservation of students’ private life was organise the students’ post and handing them what arrived from home. In Minho’s honest opinion, it was just a role to reassure the rich kids that someone was taking care of them even when they were outside their home. Kim Hangyeol was a simple secretary.

Still, Kim Hangyeol meant one thing: money. Whenever that ambitious secretary walked towards Minho, it was sure he was going to scrape together some money to buy, at least, lunch for a whole week. Yes, because Sacred Heart academy was the most prestigious coservatory of the country but couldn’t offer its pupils some food. Fortunately, Minho was a master concerning setting aside money, so the times he found himself with no bucks for lunch or a new pair of jeans were reduced to zero. Yet, that morning Kim Hangyeol didn’t seem to be looking for Minho when he walked in. The man in a blue cardigan fixed his glasses on the nose, looking at his left and then at his right, as if he had learnt each student’s face. Noticing that he had never learnt what a true responsible for preservation of students’ private life should do, he read on his sheet of paper, “Kang Sanghoon?”

The young man in question lifted his head as soon as he heard his name. Kang Sanghoon was part of the group of the natives, namely the ones who crowded the dormitory during the week and got high on Saturday’s night, while Minho shared a discount soup with the other outsiders. Kang Sanghoon wasn’t on the avarage, it was quite obvious his level was below the rank of the institute, but somehow he still managed to have a sit with the senior orchestra. And in the senior orchestra were only allowed the children prodigy. So, even though Minho had never spoken to him, he was pretty sure he couldn’t stand him. In the moment he thought the rich kid was going to skip morning class, Kim Hangyeol opened his angelic mouth again, “Lee Minho?”

Minho looked up at the orchestra leader, to ask her the permission to leave the class. Choi Bongcha nodded, allowing Minho to leave. The young man knew she was going to make him pay for those minutes of absence. Hence, Minho and Kang Sanghoon followed the secretary through the academy corridors, until they arrived at his office, probably obtained from a room that used to be a storage closet. “Okay guys, you’ve got some mail.” announced Kim Hangyeol as they were in his presence in front of his poor desk. Among all the paperwork around the room, the man found a little box that looked like a box for a watch. Minho rolled his eyes, concentrating on the few money he would earn that beautiful Monday. Oh, it was Monday, he realised. His parents would give him money on Friday, since they would send them on Monday. “Your parents stopped by a few minutes ago, looks like your watch’s been fixed.” said the man as he was handing Sanghoon the box, with an unsual sweet voice. Then, he looked at Minho, remembering his work wasn’t still done for that morning. Kim Hangyeol surpassed both of them, seeking for, Minho assumed, his money. “Don’t worry, I got this. I must have forgotten the… Wait, when did Chohee offered me her cookies? Oh yes, right, can you wait for me?” mumbled the forgetful secretary, getting out of his office.

“I hope it wasn’t anything important.” began Kang Sanghoon, sitting on the desk. Minho shook his head, telling something like he didn’t know, nobody had informed him they were sending something. “By the way, how are you set for the concert?” asked he, with a mocking grin stuck on his face. How annoying.

“Not everyone plays twice at the concert, Kang Sanghoon.” spewed out the outsider, crossing his arms in defense. However, the native bursted into laugh as if he had just told a joke. This was why Minho stayed away from them, they tought they could earn anything with some fake boldness.

“Well, it’s not the point. I know you live far away, so I was wondering if someone can watch your performance. We have some bonus tickets to give our acquaintances, remember?” No, he didn’t. In all fairness, he didn’t even want someone to cheer for him during the mid-summer concert. Who would willing to put a up a long classical concert? “C’mon, Lee Minho. I’m sure you can’t wait for your girlfriend to come and shoop after the concert!”

Minho swallowed, trying not to insult him in a span of three seconds, “Again, not everyone has a house here.”

“But your girl, she’ll have a hotel room, won’t she?” as Sanghoon licked his lips amused, Minho wanted to throw up so bad on his expensive loafers. How could someone be this disgusting? Before the start of a fight, Kim Hangyeol entered holding in his hand a yellow envelope. It didn’t look like an envelope for money.

The responsible hand it to Minho, who instinctively refused the envelope, puzzled, “Sorry, you’re sure this is for me? Maybe it’s another Minho, you know, Park Minho. I can tell-”. Yet, the man insisted convincing him that he’d been sent that puffy envelope. And actually, there was his name on it. He wondered if it could be harmful, but none of his enemies would have thought he was in a conservatory. Kim Hangyeol invited them to go back to class, surely Mrs. Choi was waiting for them. Which, for the record, was true. Still, Minho wanted to investigate.

As soon as he was alone in the hallway, Minho sneaked out towards the bathroom. Sat on the toilet, the young musicians unwrapped the enclosure. Since he was in the bathroom next to the piano department, Minho recognised Bach’s _Sinfonia n.5_ being played as he was finding out that he had received an… agenda? Glued sheets of papers leaked out from the pages of the diary, making it slightly puffed up. There was only one person in the world who was keen on reducing this way his journals: Jisung. In the rush, he grabbed from the floor the envelope, looking for the sender: Han Jisung. It was a joke. A rude cosmic joke. It was someone of the academy? It had to be someone of the natives. But none of the natives knew about Jisung, not even the outsiders did. Then it wasn’t a dumb cosmic joke. The address was the one where Jisung lived. Jisung had sent him a diary of his. And it wasn’t a random one. It was the one he used to write five years before.

Minho, confused and somewhat excited Minho flicked through the pages of the old diary, arriving to the last page in a jiffy. And he couldn’t believe his eyes. If all of that was a dream and if a god somewhere was listening to him, he begged not to turn back to the limbo before that Monday morning. _At 20 things can end, but they can also restart._

His phone. He had to find his phone. He had to leave it in his room, so he had to reach his room. He was late.

As he opened the bathroom door, he found Choi Bongcha dangerously close to him. Tapping her high heels on the lustrous floor of the academy, “Lee Minho” said she sharply, “What are you doing here? Do you think out there musicians will take their time?” she puffed, “I don’t know. But at least inside my school you won’t do as you please. Follow me, everyone’s gonna hear you play _Minuetto_.” He had no other choice, consequently he followed her lead and even played in front of everyone. However, he loved performing. It wasn’t a punishment, although there were natives hiding their laughter and the children prodigy yawning. Whenever he was filling up with air the lip plate and pressing gently the keys the whole world disappeared behind him, carrying him beyond the Earth’s surface, even far from himself, alienated from his own wires that were woving his story. Yes, because if Minho had been asked why he was standing the preferences and the backings that Sacred Heart academy always hid, Minho would have shown his flute. He wasn’t tired of Jisung, Minho understood after some weeks at the conservatory, he was tired of hold his breath under the water. Minho would have never left Jisung, despite at some point he personified what he had let go. It was his fault, the mere mistake of a slave devoted to his mind; the miscalculation of a perfectionist mathematician. The sea in which Minho was sinking wasn’t Jisung, it was a bunch of water encircling him that had been created by none but himself. He build his own cage; the work of a madman. For weeks he had wondered whether it was too late, if it was all said and done or if something would still change. On the platform, waiting for the last train he wanted to catch, he found the answer he wished he wasn’t going to hear: bets were off. Minho tortured his mind asking himself why, why he was feeling so… rejected? Forgotten? Oh, naturally, he had been the one to want this. Fair play. He had only to get used to Jisung longing for someone else. Changbin. That name haunted him. What had he? A life already arranged since he exhaled his first breath? Consequently, a stability that would never make Jisung’s security sway? Life goes on, Minho stated. Yet, his heart was still beating, not bothering to watch the clock striking midnight.

One, two, three rings. The sun was going down, Minho opened the window of his small room. A gust of air ran over his skin, the lights of a big city coloring his eyes. The teathre was there, a few metres away from him. Those times, the centre of the city reminded him of the neighbourhood in which he lived, considering that it wasn’t so different. The phone rang again, straight in his ear. Perhaps unblocking the number had been a risk. What isn’t a risk at twenty, though? He was feeling the same way he did when he was seventeen: eyes moving around tormented by a strange unsuitableness, legs trembling, shivers on a hot day, a status that blended temperature and excitement. Before he could hear the speaker’s voice, an unhappy thought crossed his mind: what if he wasn’t there for the same reason? Minho let a dead mosquito fall onto the ground, noticing the insect had found his death on the windowsill.

“Hello?” , Minho realised what he was doing as soon as he heard the voice. There was Jisung. Han Jisung, twenty years, a couple of healthy lungs ruined at a young age, the kid who kept his diaries as if they were photo albums. Han Jisung, tiny and clean handwriting, happiness held on the sleeve of his jacket. Most importantly, Han Jisung the man who thaught him the ropes and taught him to love. Reason why he laughed, when he heard the young man.

“Hi,” breathed out he, fixing his gaze on the congested street under him, “uh, how are you?” he minded to ask, while he was watching some people getting in the theatre. It felt so weird. He wasn’t Lee Minho any longer. Or at least, he wasn’t the Lee Minho he had become until that day. He felt more like Lee Minho, seventeen years old, playing transverse flute in his room to escape from reality. Lee Minho who didn’t really care about school, but still wanted a future where he was achieving his dreams.

“Not bad, I’d say.” giggled the younger. Minho tried to picture where Jisung could possibly be. In his room, just like him? In a congested street, that could be the one he was watching to distract himself from emberrassment? Perhaps he called while Jisung was at the supermarket, or was doing something important… He could have been studying! Wasn’t it the period of exams? After what it seemed a whole life by each other’s side, not knowing those details confused him. “How’s life at the Sacred Heart?”

“It’s… ordinary.” replied he, until he got aware of the fact that he had never told him where he was, “No, erm, like, how the hell do you know that I’m here?” which, mentally, brought him to a second question: how could he had sent him his diary?

“Nothing special. Seungmin told me.” said the other without a care. Minho could even imagine him shrugging. It was totally absurd the way, not even two months before, they left each other as complete strangers, whereas in that moment it looked like they were getting to know each other. All over again. _Reset everything, give me a new life, a new heart to start with: break my heart twice, I’d be glad, though._

“Seungmin!? That man can’t keep secrets.” exhaled Minho, rolling his eyes amusingly. Here it was what he had missed. He had missed that levity talking with Jisung brought. He missed meeting up in the hallways of the school during break, exchange a few words about topics that probably didn’t even make sense, greeting at the ring of the bell and then… And then, hide themselves in each other’s face, being nobody among a wrinkled aged woman walking the dog and a man running late for work. Minho missed the summer days spent between a packed subway and a deserted home. Finally, he missed winter days breathing out little clouds that resembled smoke, and letting out a laugh as a snowflake fell on the tip of Jisung’s nose.

“Don’t blame him, poor man. He’s just been dumped. Trust me, it sucks.” the happy grin that had been stuck on his face disappeared. A cold shower. No matter how they were good at hiding it, truth couldn’t be cancelled. He made Jisung suffer. And it was nothing different to cheat on him. There was no way this could be happening.

“Dumped? I… Gosh, I’m sorry. I haven’t been talking to him for awhile.”

“It’s okay, you know how he’s like. He doesn’t need somebody to rise again. Point of views.”

“I guess so.”

“Listen uhm.. you, you received something lately?”

Minho shooked his head, smirking, “It’s possible.” chuckled he, grabbing in his hand the diary, “You’re out of your mind, for real. You would have _never_ splitted up from your journals! And…” he was willing to add something, nevertheless he chose to stay silent. Without any doubt he had misunderstood, let his mind create a fairytale to be lulled with. Minho had been in a magic, perfect love story… Whilst he banged his head against the toughest wall, namely that there’s no room for fairytales in love stories.

“Did you open it?” the tone was way more hopeful than needed in a normal context. Minho could see Jisung opening his mouth and his eyes widening, as if they were telling him that of course, he was ready to hear the answerbhe desidered. The element of surprise of a claimed gift. “I, well, I added something in the last page and okay, if you are calling me it may be because-”

“Yes, I’ve read it.” he smiled effortlessly, “Quite poetic. A bit cheesy, though.” stated he then, as he opened the diary and was touching the writing on the last page. “I liked it.” Still he sighed, closing the journal, “Jisung, what happened?”

“I figured out some things lately, and don’t think I woke up one day and decided to get back in touch! It’s that…”

“We should talk face to face.” recommended the elder, both because it was the best option and because he wanted to see Jisung. “Have you any plan for those weeks?”

* * *

Between rehearsals, practises and long hours spent in the bathroom of the theatre organising every detail meticulously, the weeks before the concert had passed quickly. Minho had planned everything; from the time they were going to take the train to where they were going to eat after the concert. The night, it seemed, was under his thumb. By then, all he had to worry about was do a great performance.

During the rehearsals he was sitting on a bench behind the scenes, next to another outsider. Upon them, over the wall, a sign: no smoking. From the backstage, Minho could hear a famous swedish violinist rehearsing. The other young man was holding between his legs a cello in its own case. If Minho wasn’t wrong, his name should have been Han Beomseok. At some point, Minho grimaced, smelling smoke seeping into his nostrils. Han Beomseok was smoking and he didn’t even care. Before that moment, he didn’t have many occasions to exchange a few words with him, he learnt all he knew about him during a Sunday supper, when they happened to sit at the same table: Han Beomseok was one year older than him and arrived at the academy thanks to a scholarship and many, many sacrifices by his parents. Just like Minho, in other words.

Minho and Beomseok were waiting from the orchestra leader to set them free before the last rehearsals before the concert. He glanced at Beomseok, that cigarette could get them in trouble. And, for the record, it was the last thing he wanted. “Man, put out your cigarette.” whispered he, looking at him with sincerely worried eyes. “Do you wanna be expelled? We’re in a theatre, don’t mess around with this.”

The young man shrugged, bringing the cigarette to his mouth again, “Stage fright is haunting you, _man_. Relax, nobody’s anywhere near.” claimed he, in a sarcastic tone that made Minho’s blood boil. “Since I’m here, only one person’s been expelled. And no, he wasn’t smoking an innocous cigarette. It was rumoured there was something going on between the headmaster and this girl. In my honest opinion, Jang Yongsaek is a piece of shit. He may be a big shot, but in reality he’s a windbag. We’re all kinda sure she’d been abused for a long time. Two years ago, she denounced Jang Yongsaek. As you can imagine, the denunciation didn’t work. Actually, it made her giving up on her dream. Indeed, Sacred Heart is prestigious, it has a name. Still, it’s full of shit.” he sighed, enclosing the cigarette in a napkin, “That’s your dream, right?” Minho nodded, “I expected that. You surely have noticed, Sacred Heart is full of injustices and daddy’s boys. I’ve seen people getting out of here, okay? Trust me, only the rich kids find a bright future. The world of classical music isn’t made for us, no matter how much we love it. We’ll always be nitwits with a too big passion.”

“Why are you still here, though?” he allowed himself to ask, while Beomseok grabbed from a pocket of the cello case a small toothbrush and toothpaste. Beomseok shrugged again.

“I can’t fail my family. If I came back to my town, I’d be… Han Bomseok, son of Han Sungjin, the metalworker. So, or I stay here and try to make something out of this, or I stay in town and work in a factory until I’m grey. What’s better, in your opinion?” he seemed pushing him to answer, but it was implied. “You never told me what you did in your life before the conservatory.”

Minho pressed his lips together, “I used to study Latin at college. My passion’s always been transverse flute, by the way.”

“Never heard you playing alone, but you must be good, Lee Minho. I perceive that.” said he, smiling. “And… Latin? You don’t seem a hellenistic kid at all.” joked the young man, patting Minho’s shoulder.

“In fact, I wasn’t. I chose what I thought was the lesser evil.” stated he, bringing back to his mind all his bad decisions, “Still, here I am. Sooner or later, your nature calls you, doesn’t it?” laughed he bitterly, gazing his worn-out shoes.

“It does, it does. Not to be nosy, why did you go for college? You didn’t feel good enough?”

Minho shook his head, “No, it’s a completely different story. I’d dated this boy since we were in high school, I wasn’t ready to leave him. Or, well, I feared distance would have torn us apart. I chose him over future. That’s it.” he thought of Jisung who, by then, should have been with the other on the train.

“Oh God, don’t dare to tell out loud you’re gay.” breathed out Beomseok, both amused and genuinely scared, “You know this place isn’t really… open-minded?” said he uncertain, “However, who has told you that you gotta choose? I mean, both your passion and your boyfriend could be a future. Nothing forces you to take a decision. I’m not the one who should tell you that, we’re both adults”

For the first time, Minho felt relieved and it wasn’t because of his transverse flute. The unforseen kindness made him think that maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t so alone in his own new world. “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it. We gotta survive.” sighed he, “I’m gonna brush my teeth now, if Mrs. Choi calls for you to leave, good luck with the concert. You’re cool, Minho.” they greeted quickly and Han Bomseok disappeared with his cello.

Half an hour later, he was out in the city, heading to the railway station. It was the last yard time before the last rehearsal. The weather was nice, sunny; which was unlikely, most of the times the city was covered by a thick layer of mug and grayness. Instead, the sky was clear, an airplane flying by distracted him from the display of his mobile. Something in the air, made him believe nothing could go wrong that evening. Whenever he had time he managed to plan their short trip, including a cheap hostel they were going to stop for the night. Truthfully, he didn’t have much time, counting how long it take to come back to the academy, but he still wanted to see his friends before the concert of mid-summer. As soon as Minho invited Jisung to come, his ex boyfriend immediately insisted to bring Seungmin and Jeongin as well. And if there would be Seungmin and Jeongin, also Hyunjin and Felix had to come. In that moment, Minho got aware of the fact that Jisung had become very close with the two of them.

Minho felt thrilled. Out of the blue, his body was filled up with energy. He wasn’t even frightened to death at the thought of performing in front of a bunch of adults, musicians, even critics. His mind was thoughtless, his legs bounced waiting for the people he loved to come. 3:30 pm. The train should have arrived.

Seungmin had been the first one to surpass the exit door, followed by Jeongin. Probably, he thought, there was a reason why he had gone through college, even though it wasn’t his path. There were some people waiting subconsciously for him, without who he wouldn’t have been there or, stupidly, he wouldn’t have been the same. Seungmin was courageous, honest, free in a narrow cage he locked himself in; he didn’t like believing he wasn’t a pre-set machine, yet he was vulnerable. Still, in him there was force, determination, all thanks to his vulnerability, that he’d never been willing to show everyone. Jeongin was human. If he had to find only one word, Minho would pick human. Jeongin was human, driven by his emotions and the most hopeless longing; he was human, he had to touch the ground before he could tell it was hard. Both of them enclosed him in a tight hug, after they had run towards each other.

“We missed you so much, you jerk!” exclaimed Jeongin, breaking the embrace. Right after, the one who seemed to be Hyunjin arrived, complaining about the fact Jeongin and Seungmin ran so quickly they’d been hard to find. Minho laughed at those lost eyes, and laughed was Jeongin mumbled that mumbled something like they were too excited to walk straight. Minho had heard the worst and the best thing about Hyunjin, so he couldn’t really tell how the young man was like.

Presumably, as soon as Hyunjin arrived, they started a conversation Minho wasn’t totally listening to. Jisung. He was about to meet Jisung. And.. and the moment arrived, at some point, he glimpsed Jisung arriving while he was chatting with Felix. But then, oh then, he noticed there was a third person.

Changbin.

* * *

What stood out in the theatre’s parterre was the colour red. Red were the sits, red was the curtain. The sparkling chandelier in the middle of the ceiling was one of the many pieces of furniture that made the environment elegant. Jeongin giggled, peeking those smart-dressed adults sitting on shabby sits. However, their tickets led them to a balcony of the upper circle. During art history class at High school, if Jeongin remembered well, from the balconies the acoustics were worse, reason why poor people, in the past, would attend concerts from the gallery. Jisung and Seungmin sat down on the chairs that were closer to the balustrade; Felix minded to sit next to Changbin, so he and Hyunjin remained in the last row, right behind the hallway and the shining green sign which indicated the emergency exit.

The lights were still on and the curtain was covering the stage. Jeongin could clearly see Hyunjin’s visage. When the six of them took the train that morning, Hyunjin was dressed of a pair of dirty sneakers, tracksuit pants and a plain t-shirt. Instead, for the concert he decided to overdo, to cross the line. He was wearing a white shirt, adorned with a golden embroidery; the beige trousers were made of fabric and emphasised his legs. The shirt, slightly unbottuned, revealed a little his skin. Around his neck, there was a necklace whose charm reminded the shape of a drop. The visage was enchanting. A light layer of eye shadow sketched his cut eye, whereas the locks of hair, gathered in a low bun, fell on the side of his face, framing it. The young man was resting his crossed arms on the back of the chair where Changbin was sitting, laughing at some post they saw on Instagram.

“It’s beautiful here, isn’t it? I haven’t been in a theatre since I was twelve, I think.” began Hyunjin, once he’d been done with the post about a random puppy. As he pronounced those words, the lights went off and the curtain revealed a woman with a long dress, who reminded the audience to turn off their phones and enjoy the concert. Jeongin put it on silent, focusing again on Hyunjin.

“Theatres are magnificent. No wonder Minho loves them.” observed the younger, swinging on the chair. A group of at least twenty people came in, starting playing a symphony Jeongin knew nothing about. However, Hyunjin seemed to be moved; his eyes were stuck on the stage, losing himself in a word-less music. Perhaps to find Minho, although his eyes didn’t move, meaning they were looking for nobody.

Jeongin was glad to have Hyunjin. Ever since he found out the identity of his dad and remained alone at home, Hyunjin always tried to make him company whenever was possible. Summer break was only a few weeks away to its end; his desk, once more, was a mess – open books, notes, translations, a dictionary almost completely underlined in pencil. The heat growing in his cheeks didn’t stop, instead it was unexpectedly growing stronger everytime they talked. His hands got easily sweaty and nervous giggles were on the agenda. Since he began to think of Hyunjin _that_ way, his body shivered even at a simple touch. Hyunjin didn’t make him uneasy, but somehow, he found a new excitement staying next to him.

Excitement that died, as soon as he unlocked his phone, finding a text from an unknown number. Jeongin read quickly the messagge, understanding right away who was the sender. His dad. He blocked his phone again, putting it in a pocket of his trousers. It hadn’t to upset him that much. Still, everytime his name was mentioned, it created a huge disorder. Was he trying to redeem himself? Or did he only want an assured place in heaven and rest in peace? Jeongin didn’t want to buy love from anyone, neither he wanted his loved to be sold for some selfish reason. He felt guilty, although people around him told him it was pointless. His hands came from a clandestine relationship, his lips, in another form and in another life so tightly interlaced with his, had kissed other lips far more sinful than the kiss Jeongin received during a party and even his eyes were the result of a secret, hidden into the most deep and dark meanderings of the human soul. The blood running through his veins came from a sin and nothing could change that.

Needing fresh air, Jeongin left the concert. He exited the the theatre, looking for a little corner where he could stay alone; he crossed the square and the road, arriving on the bridge under which a river flowded. Apart from the noise of the cars, all he could hear was the water flowing. He felt at ease, for a few minutes. His lower arms leaning against the railing. He watched the text, again and again: from the point in which his father wrote he’d asked his aunt for the phone number, to the one he wrote he wanted to meet Jeongin again. It had been… How long? Two, maybe three weeks? He didn’t remember exactly. The fact is that… He had a whole life to get ready for his mother to leave, so was a little time too much to get used to the idea that he had a dad?

Suddenly, he felt someone embracing him from behind. His arms next to him. Hyunjin, Jeongin didn’t even need to think twice. He turned around, finding the other’s face and chest extremely close to his. If the situation hadn’t been desperate, he would have giggled. “I’m sorry” said Hyunjin, drawing further. Jeongin liked that proximity, though.

“You… You didn’t have to follow me.” muttered Jeongin, focusing again on the river. Hyunjin was next to him, watching as well the stream. Their wrists touched each other, as if they were screaming in unison that had no intention to leave each other’s side. A cold air divided them, but it was nice. “I needed some fresh air.” which was a half-truth.

“The bathroom excuse didn’t work, Innie.” admitted he, shaking his head. In fact, Jeongin mumbled he was going to the bathroom when he left, hoping deep down nobody would hear him. “Did the concert bore you?”

The younger tsked, “It’s my… father.” confessed, handing Hyunjin his phone, “He wants to, uh, he wants to get to know me.”

Hyunjin read carefully the text, maybe thinking of what to say. Jeongin stared at him, without even noticing it could be kinda pushy. Who knows what he was thinking! The thought that he was a mere troublemaker insinuated in his mind. If Hyunjin had never known him, he wouldn’t have been there and… he wouldn’t have had to follow him around, wasting time and emotion. He was chaining him. And he hated so much that feeling. He was shutting in Hyunjin in a world that didn’t belong to him – his problems, weren’t Hyunjin’s. He… He was trapping him. Jeongin didn’t know whether he hated more being pushed for something he wasn’t ready to face or himself blocking someone he loved, because he needed that someone.

But. There was a but.

“It’s not worth it.” stated Hyunjin a few seconds later handing Jeongin his phone back, “Don’t press yourself for that. I mean it.” stressed he, bringing both of his hands to his heart. Then, he caressed Jeongin’s cheek, “You need a break.”

As well, there were times like that. More than moments, they were gestures. It- Oh, They made him feel like Hyunjin loved him. They were only some details, that for some reason were more blatant than huge actions. Hyunjin could touch, talk to anyone in the same way, but there was a flicker of hope that he used his mouth and his hand differently to reach Jeongin. “I can’t, Hyunjin. I can’t.” sighed he, fixing his hair, “I got this feeling that if I stop now, it’s gonna get worse. And… And maybe he will leave like my mum and although I’m not attached to him, I can’t let his happen. What if, I don’t know-” his voice broke down, as he was trembling and wanted to curl up, not to hear the rest of the world shout.

Before he could even notice, Hyunjin wrapped him in a hug, whispering gibberish and cradling him from left to right. “Stay at my place for a few days. Like, uh, you’ll rest a bit. You’ll go insane staying there.” whispered the elder in his ear. Jeongin’s arms, at first disoriented and shocked, wrapped around the other’s waist, meanwhile he was trying to process what he had just been told. It was funny how his obstinate, stubborn attitude remained silent in front of him.

“No, no, no! You’re definitely out of your mind.” rebuted Jeongin, shaking his head covered by Hyunjin’s chest, “I can’t let you do that. Not again, I feel…” he didn’t actually know how he was feeling, “Hyun, I feel like everything around me is crashing.” confessed, the voice muffled by Hyunjin clunging onto him even more. Those warmth, it reminded Jeongin of his mum’s arms. Arms stretching down to protect him, barriers whence it was impossible to slip away, whose scent pervaded him and made him not even wanting to escape from his grab. In addition, the urge to hold the other one back and the dread not being able to.

“The world might be crashing, but you’re not.” answered he back, drifting away enough to see his face. Jeongin looked down at the sidewalk; he bit his lower lip, regretting what he had just said. However, Hyunjin lifted up his chin, costrincting him to take his responsabilities. Why was admitting the truth so hard? And why did he feel the biggest idiot of all times? For God’s sake, he wanted to leave Hyunjin, cross the bridge and get lost among the lights of the big city; staying alone, walking alone. Why was sharing his deepest emotions with him impossible, even wrong? His head was moving away, flying to the furthest country he could come up with. Yet, his feet were still on the ground, his eyes fixed on the other’s eyes, which maybe were trying to figure out what crossed the younger’s mind. In the end, he didn’t really want to leave.

The water was flowding underneath, a streetlight lighted up Hyunjin’s figure backlit, his hair looking like electrical wires due to the wind of a summer night; Jeongin’s hands still on the elder’s waist. His heart beating so fast it almost made noise. He wondered how Hyunjin was feeling, if his heart was combusting inside his chest as well. He was happy. Just like that. It was irrational, pointless – but he felt fine, although a few seconds before he wanted to fade away.

It had been an instinct. A duty.

It had been a duty grabbing his shirt’s collar, bringing him closer to his face. Jeongin looked straight in his eyes, as if he was asking his permission, or to understand if Hyunjin wanted that too. And maybe it was because of the light, or because he felt alone, or because that evening was too nice to end differently or maybe, just maybe, Jeongin knew the answer. He needed that inside of him, not on the outside to be showed, to be temporary: the time to heal and walk away. He was in love and that burning fire was making him care-free, although, again, he believed he could crash at any moment.

Still, he had no time to think about that possibility – his lips were already on Hyunjin’s. In that moment, he realized they were just like the last time; chapped, cold lips against his. Only then, reality came in. It had been a dream, of course and probably also a gamble, but he was fond of pressing their lips together, find another way to draw near. So, whilst he declared the kiss as the greatest mistake of his life, in the bottom of his heart he didn’t regret it. “Oh God, I screwed up, I’m sorry. You know, I’ve been thinking…” he mumbled, not daring to look in his eyes.

Again, he didn’t have the time to regret for an action that Hyunjin kissed him, making him stand on tiptoe, going deeply with the kiss. His hands pressed against the other’s chest, his blood rushing so impetously inside his body, giving birth to a giggle, breathed out when he still tasted every tiny crack on Hyunjin’s lips. And his brain, that stubbornly kept on unsettling his certaintes: it was real, they were kissing, he could taste it – but, oh, wait, couldn’t have been there some what if’s? If there were any, Jeongin decided not to see them. As his brain fell into a peaceful sleep, the soles of his shoes touched the ground, creating a small distance between them. Seeing Hyunjin, he seemed different, as if only then, only when he surpassed that layer of internal chaos, Jeongin had been able to see Hyunjin, rediscovering him. Finishing a chapter of a book, turning the page and finding a new one.

“I think you should pay for this.” joked Hyunjin, with the arms around the younger’s waist.

“Hm?”

“Of course, you should come at my place. I’m not joking.”

“Hm, I’ll take it into account.” answered he, cleverly.

“Rude.” commented the elder, kissing him again.

There was something Jeongin didn’t get, though.

* * *

Minho poured some water in his glass.

The venue was full and that didn’t help his migraine. The nuisance hadn’t showed up in months and it reppeared after the concert. He couldn’t complain, he played well. Incredibly, the annoying trombone didn’t even bother him during the performance. Yes, it was his first professional concert and he played the best he could. As he managed to be in front of the mirror of the changing room assigned to the students in order to put his flute into his case and remove his make-up, Minho set himself to focus on the performance and the performance only. It had been harder than expected.

The musician found all of his friends, as scheduled, in front of the door on the backside of the theatre. Seungmin, shrewd and rapid Seungmin (who knows whether he was running away from something!), had been the first face he saw. Next to him there was Jisung, who seemed to be quite uncomfortable in that situation. Minho was too; reason why he decided to walk past him, answering all Seungmin’s questions. However, there was a latent ache tormenting him – a hammer hitting his forehead and a sparkle of jealousy closed in his fist. Here it was. Headache. He realised that as he sat by the table of the small venue. He apologised, he didn’t need to worsen the situation drinking alchohol.

“And, like, how do you remember all those… bottoms? You were playing effortlessly I would have mistaken one or two buttons just in the first two minutes!” claimed Seungmin, while Minho was grabbing a pill from the package he had always with him. He swallowed the pill, hoping the ache would fade in a matter of minutes.

“Practise, it’s like when you dance. It becomes spontaneous.” answered he, counting that one as the thirtieth question.

“Oh, I see. It sounds interesting.” commented he, nodding. Seungmin was hilarious. Well, to Minho’s mind, love made him dirty. His so clever friend, instantly became an insecure puppy around Felix. Minho reasoned the problem must have been him. There was an unsolved question, or a never-asked question. Minho couldn’t tell. The thing was that one of his best friends looked completely awkward in that situation. Of course, Seungmin dressed of armor to protect the most human part of himself.

Spountaneously, Minho gave a look at Jisung, who was on the other side of the table and had just thanked the waiter for the Martini. He and Seungmin weren’t so different. He hated that he was so good with words, both of them were so damn good at calling each other, feeling the same way they did when they were together – assuming that their story had full stops or semicolons, yet as soon as they were in front of each other, they avoided each other like kids after a fight. They were kids after a fight. And Minho couldn’t stand it. Or actually, he couldn’t stand Jisung talking so jauntily to Changbin. He swallowed even the last drop of water, beating the glass against the table as soon as he finished.

“The two whisky sours?” asked again the waiter, looking exactly at the two people remained without a drink.

“Ours.” minded to answer Felix, under the confused gaze of Seungmin.

Minho laughed seeing Seungmin without words, he had always something to say. He winced, as his head wasn’t hinting at stopping hurting. “Everything’s alright?” he looked up, finding Jeongin smiling at him.

“Migrain.” winced Minho, as if he was going to die soon. However, his eyes laid on Changbin, who really couldn’t stop talking to Jisung. “Headache.” repeated he, in a louder voice, so that maybe Jisung would see him. Suffering from it had always been a big deal in his life; over the years, he spent several afternoons and evenings in a dark bedroom, under his bed sheets, trying to repress the headache. He had seen neurologists all over the country in order to give a cause to his predisposition, but what he received had been just a shrug: _it’s subjective_. Minho settled for that and eventually learnt to live with it, between times in which his enemy showed up every day and others in which it wanted to take a break. Therefore, an image was so vivid in his mind of the times he was forced to lay in bed. Jisung hand on his forehead, the most gentle caress he had ever received.

“A pill could help! Have you got something with you? Otherwise I could go at a pharmacy, I’ve seen one nearby.” Minho heard a voice. Minho heard a voice interrupting his marvelous, incredible dreams. And not any voice: Changbin’s voice. He was sitting there. In front of Jisung. With his vicious aura, Seo Changbin was talking to him. Seeing his lips moving to speak disgusted Minho the most, unbearable was the amount of times those lips touched who knows how many skin flaps had kissed, or licked or… He couldn’t think about it! Those… those things were shamelessly _trying_ to be kind to him. He wanted to throw up.

“Erm, no.” claimed Minho, “I mean, it’s okay.” muttered, fixing his trousers. “It’s so sweet of someone who shouldn’t have even been here now, so…”

Jisung opened wide his eyes, as if he wanted to say that no, he already knew there would be Changbin with them. Seungmin choked his own drink, “I don’t remember to have ordered a whisky sour.”

“What have your ordered?” interrupted Felix.

“A San Francisco.”

“Deal. We’ll drink it later.”

“What?” exclaimed Seungmin, who would have caught all the attention if only that exact phrase hadn’t been told by Jisung at the same time.

“What?” Jisung sighed again, glacing at his ex boyfriend, “I _told_ you he was going to be there. And, seriously, what’s the problem? We’re friends!”

“Oh, I wish you had said the same thing while you two were making out!”

“Minho, maybe…” Hyunjin tried to say, as the elder was already standing up.

“A month, Jisung! It took you a month!” shouted he, as if he wanted to inflict him the death blow of a fight that hasn’t started yet.

“Are you fucking dumb? How long did it take you to break up with me, uh? After five years!” replied Jisung, as watched Minho apologise again with the others and leaving the venue, “Where are you going? Minho!” but Minho had already gotten out of the door.

The wind of the summer night cut his skin as sharply as a blade. Still wearing that stupid suit, Minho walked through the street, not further than the other side of the road, though. He wanted to cry. Like the miserable loser he was, he wanted that salty, warm water to stream down his cheeks. He had planned everything. Every single thing. And not just in the past weeks, but for the last five years. Since he had talked to Jisung from the window of his house, he had tried to make everything work. He could swear Jisung seemed the right person. Jisung had been the right person. Yet, nothing seemed to work. And it was his fault, all of that: from the night he chose to attend college, to break up with Jisung to go to the Sacred Heart. Minho tsked at himself. Not only a loser, he was a fool. What were arguments, discussion, if the next day Jisung would open the door of his room and take him the medicines he needed? At college, he felt for real in a reality he didn’t want, but when he touched the ground, when he was playing his transverse flute, he got aware of the fact that he had mistaken. And it wasn’t time any more.

“Minho!” yelled his first love, outside the entrance door of the venue, “Come here!” he waved his hand, inviting him to draw near. Minho was at a turning point. Again, it was the moment to take a decision. What was he supposed to do? Turning his back, sure he was going to lose him forever? Or he was supposed to give an umpteenth chance? On one side, what he was; on the other side, what he could be.

Minho reached Jisung.

Their backs against the wall of the restaurants, close like they hadn’t been for a long time. Minho pressed his hand on his forehead. None of them dared to talk, the calm before the storm. “Why did you.. why did you bring Changbin with you?” broke the silence the elder, “I’m not saying you didn’t tell me or anything, just the reason.”

Jisung sighed, hiding his fingertips in the pockets of his trousers, “We’re friends. We didn’t only have sex.” said he in a whisper, his eyes fixed on the street. “That’s it. I don’t see why it upset you so much.”

“How can you not see it? You rejected me for him!” exclaimed the other, then “What were you thinking?”

“You broke up with me, okay? It hurt me.”

Minho puffed, “Yes, and you replaced me after three weeks.”

“What was I supposed to do? I should have waited for you? What if you wouldn’t come back? Can you see I didn’t know what crossed your mind, Minho?”

“You weren’t doing anything to get things better! I felt alone.”

“I’d bet! You wouldn’t tell me anything. You were a stranger.” continued Jisung, “I would have never stopped you from studying here, perfection your talent if that’s what you wanted.”

“I wasn’t feeling great and.. And you found a fallback right away!”

“In fact, Changbin was just a fallback.” admitted he, “I didn’t understand it immediately. I don’t know… Uh, I could kiss, sleep with him but” he giggled, “I could make love only with you. And it’s not about, well, _that_. It’s something else, it was like-”

“That was totally cheesy” said Minho, “but I get that. I know what you’re talking about.” he licked his lips, “I’m sorry, I’ve noticed too late life wasn’t just the same without you.”

“We’ve been lucky. Finding each other, I guess.” sighed he, touching Minho’s forehead with his hand, “Shouldn’t we do something for this migraine now?”

No matter how many problems they could face, their story hadn’t full stops;

* * *

Seungmin couldn’t sleep. In the dark of the room of a dirty hotel, Seungmin tossed and turned. Felix couldn’t be serious. The mistake of a waiter couldn’t give birth to one of his occasional sleepless night. Still, Seungmin couldn’t sleep. Jeongin and Jisung were sleeping peacefully in their beds, unaware of his lack of sleep. He had enough troubles lately, right? There was no need to complicate everything.

A knock on the door. Felix didn’t forget.

Seungmin was undecided. There was Felix making him feel loved, waping his tears away, but as well there was Felix betraying, misleading him. There was Seungmin’s heart, too tired to endorse. There was Seungmin, opening the door.

Felix without make-up, Felix as vulnerable as that afternoon in the café at the corner, Felix with a bottle of orange soda, “Couldn’t find San Francisco anywhere.” What an unexpected way to end things, but so was Felix. From head to toe.

They sat on the floor of the hallway. Felix uncorked the bottle, “Want some?”

“You owe me.” joked Seungmin, “Were you sleeping, though?”

“You think so? I wandered around the whole neighbourhood to find a bottle of soda.” answered he, before moving Seungmin’s hair away from the forhead, “It’s not you.”

“It’s more me than you know.” giggled Seungmin, taking the bottle away from Felix’s grab, “I broke up with Taalin.”

A fly flew around the old light bulb that lighted up the place. Felix looked at Seungmin, creating a circle with his mouth, “Oh. I’m sorry. Well, I mean.”

“I was searching for you, I won’t lie. Every aspect of her reminded me of you. I guess I couldn’t get over you, Felix. No matter how much you hurt me, I would have always, always been ready to give you a chance. I loved you, probably I did. Just… I didn’t understand you, one day you looked like you wanted to build up something with me, you know? Like, being together. And the next day, the next day you were making out with Changbin. There’s no time for lies. Uh, for awhile I thought of forgive you, coming back to you, but it wasn’t worth it. It wouldn’t be worthy even now.” said Seungmin, staring at the elevator in front of them, “Have you ever been in love with me. Insitinctively, yes or no?” he hated himself for always giving Felix chances, even after telling it wasn’t worth it.

“Seungmin,” began he, taken aback, “I… I don’t know.”

“Understandable.” he handed the bottle back to Felix, “If you want to drink some soda again, I won’t say no. But for the rest… I’m sorry.” concluded he, standing up, “I’m going to sleep, tomorrow we gotta wake up early. Good night.”

The sun was going to shine again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M . HERE . i dont even know how i'm gonna die istg. i'm sorry if like the last parts are super shitty but as you can see from my one-week delay and 9k words, it had been a hard chapter this one. so !!! let me know what you think of those minsung and seunglix endings, i've tried to sum up everything and not be too repetitive, so i'm sorry if it didn't turn out super well. i leave as always my [ curious cat](https://curiouscat.me/writinghwang) <33 hope you're doing well, and see you on weekend if i'm still alive !!! take care ilusm <33


	28. Fondness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow, here we are with the last chapter! i'm sorry for disappearing, but i wanted it to be perfect and it turned out extremely difficult to keep up with both school and writing :( enjoy! <3

Jeongin opened lazily his eyes, as he tasted a warm liquid with his lips. A lamp dimly lighted up the living room, the low sound of a tv show lulled his just-opened eyes. It was raining outside, Jeongin found out, since the rain hitting the ground made more noise than the television in front of him. He realised he must have fallen asleep. His cheek and his lips were overwhelmingly leaning against a grey, soft cloth. A sweater, probably. Tiringly, he shifted his eyes on the owner of the sweater he had unintentionally got dirty with his own saliva. Hyunjin was watching tv, without noticing Jeongin had just woken up. Then, the younger remembered: they were supposed to see a film, that evening.

Jeongin stretched his curled-up body, moaning and rubbing his eyes, in order to come back to the living world completely. He yawned, sitting properly on the sofa. His head, however, was so heavy he felt the urge to place it on Hyunjin’s shoulder. Only then, the latter turned his head, being touched by the tiredness Jeongin was showing.

It had been three days already since Jeongin had re-prepared his luggage, got on his car and reached the Hwang’s house. September was around the corner, therefore days came and went as if they already were at college. The dining table had become their office and its surface was constantly suffocated by books, notebooks and even Hyunjin’s laptop. The time with Hyunjin didn’t follow a regular script, minutes could last for hours, whereas days could be seconds. More importantly, Jeongin learnt much about Hyunjin, well… the not-college Hyunjin. He discovered he had adopted a dog years before, even if staying around the animal meant sneeze every two seconds; he discovered his mum was an architect close to retirement and his dad was a nurse working in a hospice, which was the main reason why he wasn’t at home so often. Jeongin discovered the young man’s room was situated in the attic, and he wondered how he managed not to hit his head against the ceiling. In three days, Jeongin had also learnt that his parents were fond of Hyunjn’s art, in fact, along the walls, it was easy to see many of his pictures. Jeongin learnt there was an open door for him there, which left him wondering how could someone do that with such facility.

“Slept well?” his hand slipped on Jeongin’s cheek and couldn’t hold back the irresistible the temptation to slap it, as a gentle way to ask for his attention. Meanwhile, Jeongin looked around him, still trying to figure it out when, how, and why he had fallen asleep. He nodded, not daring to lift his head from the comfortable support Hyunjin had offered him.

“ ‘Am sorry.” mumbled he between a giggle and a yawn. “Was the film good?”. By then, the television was broadcasting a cooking show. Hyunjin laughed at the sight of a contestant to whom the eggs got out of his hands, crashing on the floor. Without looking at him, the photographer grabbed his hand, intertwining their fingertips. In those three days, there was something else he had learnt about the man sitting next to him.

“Boring as hell. You didn’t miss anything.” In those three days, Jeongin had learnt he had no idea where he was heading towards with Hyunjin. After the night of the concert, and the message, and the kiss, and everything that followed in a rush, everything seemed back at its place. As time passed, Jeongin thought more and more about the fact that, in all fairness, he could get used to that life. Ergo, he could get used to the relationship they had established. However, he was sure he was _indeed_ missing something. Something that he had to read between the lines, a meaning he had to track down in a dictionary dense with etymologies. “Now, go take a shower. We’re cooking dinner tonight.”

Unlike the normal days, Sunday brought everyone’s at home – apart from Hyunjin’s dad who, for logical reasons, had no days off. Hyunjin’s mother wasn’t the kind of person, or the kind of mum, who was always around her son; instead, she was more introverted, you could feel she preferred to stay on her own. In fact, as far as he knew given that he slept for awhile, since they went downstairs to watch television Jeongin didn’t see or hear the woman. He grabbed from the suitcase the bathrob, going down the bathroom. Truthfully, he was dying to have a good, hot shower. The exam was horribly close and the time he spent on the books was way more than the time he had just spent sleeping with Hyunjin on the couch; his sweater begged him to, please, wear some deodorant as he put the cloth on to go to sleep and, taken aback by the disperation the start of another academic year was bringing, he even set up on his phone a weekly schedule to remind him to drink water. Therefore, a regenerating sleep and a fresh shower were the cherry on the top of the cake needed to call it a day. Without thinking twice, he opened the door finding, though, a female figure intent on putting red nail-polish on her toes nails. She blew distractly on her foot, as if Jeongin wasn’t there. The woman was sitting on the edge of the bath, whereas her foot was resting on the sink. Curved to reach the limbs, Hyunjin’s mum turned her head, finding, of course, Jeongin’s gaze and waving at him. The latter tried, without any result, to apologise and tell he would have his shower later on, but she insisted, saying she was almost done and that he wasn’t bothering her.

Areum, this was her name, invited his son’s friend to sit next to her. Jeongin felt a little emberrassed at the sudden proximity. Since he had arrived, he hadn’t many chances to exchange a few words with Hyunjin’s parents, except during meals – when, again, they mostly talked about their job, after having asked Jeongin some basic question about him. Hence, he expected everything but her take such liberties. “Tell me Jeongin, how are you doing? I would have loved to see you more those days, but work’s been calling me.” began the woman, as she closed the phial.

“Uh, I’m fine, thanks.” reflected the young man. His eyes were fixed on the tiles of the modern bathroom, because something was telling him not to look directly at the middle-aged woman. She hummed, sighing right after. The air was tense and Jeongin wondered why she wanted to talk to him alone.

“I’m glad, our home’s always avaible for Jinnie’s friends.” she tried to show a smile, which faded away when she stood up to look at herself in the mirror. Jeongin followed her movements with the eyes, feeling a light coziness growing stronger on his visage. Not on purpose, his mind brought him back to the bridge. The bridge upon which Hyunjin decided to cure, or at least attempt to, his wounds and the same bridge upon which Jeongin, driven by a young recklessness or a bittersweet joy, kissed his lips, to ensure they tasted the same or to pay Hyunjin back of an act he didn’t even know what it could be. Whatever it was, it was enough to get him out of his comfort zone. He thought about that, ascertaining that the water streaming down the sink couldn’t be so different to the one underneath the bridge. “Listen” Areum brought him back to reality, “Has Hyunjin been acting strange lately?” asked she, while she was drying off her hands.

Had Hyunjin been doing something abnormal? After Jeongin found out his mother’s marriage, he supposed their relationship had only grew stronger and Hyunjin seemed the same young man he had met in spring. The only behaviour he found odd and almost egoistic was the way he acted after their date at the amusement park. Actually, there was still something Jeongin wasn’t able to decipher about Hyunjin, but it wasn’t big enough to be labeled as abnormal. “Hm, I don’t think so.” the woman looked like reflecting on what she was being told, assuming who knows which intrinsicate meaning.

“I see, thank you.” sighed Areum, approaching to the door, “I fear Hyunjin has told you nothing about his problem, then.” stated eventually she, almost regretful. “I’ll get this solved, though. See you at dinner!”

* * *

“I don’t think meatballs should look like this.” Hyunjin moved side by the food in the pan, as Jeongin was carefully supervising whether their dinner would be edible. The sign of their culinary attempt were evident all over the kitchen: the worktable had been wisely scattered flour and bread crumbs, as the sink had been suffocated by dirty plates and cutlery. Eventually, however, their meatballs seemed more scorched than necessary.

“Ugh, but it says they must be crunchy.” whined the elder. Meanwhile, his dog was wagging his tail, seeking slyly for Hyunjin’s care by climbing on his leg. Clumsily, Hyunjin tried to get rid of the animal obstacolating his movements. “Kkami, what’s the matter? It’s still too early to eat.”

“Yeah, crunchy” began Jeongin, taunting imperceptibly the other, “It’s not like they were supposed to be _charred._ ” Don’t get him wrong, Jeongin appreciated Hyunjin’s inner strength. Simply, those meatballs didn’t turn out as they should have done. In any case, Jeongin thought he had to show him how bad they were; so, he stole from the pan one of them, still boiling in oil. Before Hyunjin could retort saying that the food was burning, Jeongin had alredy biten half of a meatball. Verily, he hadn’t take into account the fact that he would scand himself. Which is why he found himself fidgeting, as soon as he had burned himself with food. “Damn, it’s hot!” exclaimed he eventually, throwing on the floor the meatball by instinct.

“Don’t ever insult my creations again, you little prick.” exhaled, somewhat exhausted, Hyunjin, as he kneeled down to grab the croquette and throw it away. He opened the shutter under the cook, where the bin was placed. Doing that, he drew closer to the younger.

Jeongin flinched; his hands finding refuge in the edge of the drawer. His breaths deepened, as he stared at every detail that made up Hyunjin’s visage: a lock of hair, rebellious to the half up ponytail he had gathered his hair into, hintered his gaze; his lips, depicted by several cracks that bleached the pink of his mout, stretched out a forced smile. Then, Jeongin remarked upon a little, brown mole right under Hyunjin’s left eye. Impulsively, it occurred to him to touch it, that it was nothing but a perfect excuse to brush against his skin once more. Just once more. “What?” sighed he, already reaching out a hand.

“Jinnie, it’s time to feed Kkami. He’s driving me crazy.” abruptly, Hyunjin drifted away. Without giving Jeongin an additional look, the elder nodded, grabbing from a drawer a bag of kibble. Jeongin, however, he didn’t move. Areum, still resting her waist on the jamb of the kitchen door, shrugged. And as she tapped repeatedly her fingers on it, she left the room. And Jeongin could swear, Hyunjin wasn’t just the same he had been until that moment.

Himchan, Hyunjin’s dad, entered into the house when Jeongin placed the last glass on the table. In a rush, the man put off his jacket, letting glimpse a white uniform. His cheekbones were scraped by reddened wrinkles, whereas his whole body shivered after a tired yawn. Himchan approached to the tableful, giving a kiss on his wife’s scalp; then, he sat on the table, greeting in a mutter also Hyunjin and Jeongin, who restricted himself to wrinkle his lips slightly. “Uh, someone made meatballs?” claimed surprised Himchan, giggling as he was fixing himself on the chair, next to Areum.

“Well, it was an attempt.” said Hyunjin nervously. His dad clamped one meatball put neatly in order on a plate in the middle of the table, bringing them to his mouth. He bit slowly every part of it, in order to taste it as well as he could. When he gulped it down, he only rubbed his hands. “Do you fancy it?” asked the young man eventually. Yes, Hyunjin cared a lot about his parent’s judgment. Consequently, he produly showed off his teeth when his dad confirmed twice that he enjoyed the dinner.

After the uncommon dialogue Jeongin had with Areum, he thought it would be better if he ignored each word they had exchanged. But, on the other hand, they spent the meal in silence; therefore, his thoughts sailed without he could help it. Cutting in a perfect half a scorched meatball (how could Himchan like them so much?) and putting some vinegar on the salad, Jeongin figured out he had to wind back all the events that led him there to, at least, try to understand something. Inconsciously, he wondered what would have happened if, for some unfortunate reasons, Hyunjin wouldn’t have found him there; or if his mother would have never left his side. Hyunjin had run away, his tantrum had been useless and he couldn’t help feeling undesirable. Yet, that was the same Hyunjin sitting, now, beside him, becoming incomprehensible once more. And he wished so hard Hyunjin had been able to confide in him as Jeongin did with him. Then, there was Areum, telling him distractedly that his son had a _problem_ and asked whether he had been good lately. However, a warm hand slipped on his and, oh, Jeongin hated the way it reminded inevitably another day. In that moment, he dared to shift his gaze and stare at Hyunjin. Hyunjin, tensed up and nervous, as if he was awaiting something inevitable to happen; as if he was awaiting something, so that he could forget about it as soon as possible.

“I almost forgot” started off Areum, swallowing the last crumb of the meatball she was eating, “Yesterday Kwan left earlier, hm, she is helping me with this project I’m doing for a new shop. That’s not the point, though. Basically, she had to go because apparently it was her uncle’s birthday, so I took advantage of it to surf on the Net for awhile.” the red lipstick made her lips mesmerasing, though Hyunjin seemed even more uneasy than before, “And.. And I found this australian psychologist who has opened a studio in town recently. They all talk _so_ well about him, maybe we should make an appointment, shouldn’t we?”

Himchan kept on eating, looking at his dish and Hyunjin looked down at the tablecloth as well. “I mean” she continued, “He’s a renowned expert, he might help you with your problem. For real! Since you’ve never made up your mind to see Dr. Gwan.” Areum shrugged.

Only silence followed.

“It’s that I don’t wanna see any of these people.” said finally Hyunjin, with a faint voice. “I don’t need a headshrinker. I’m fine!”

“You’re not, Hyunjin!” she yelled, making accindentally fall a knife on the floor, “For God’s sake, can’t you see… Can’t you see how, how guant, sad, cutdown you are? I’m your mum and I’m worried.” saying that, she grabbed Hyunjin’s hand, unhooking it from Jeongin’s. “It’s important to face issues to live better.”

“Mum, I don’t have any issue to solve.” he stated, setting himself free from her grab and standing up, “I’m okay.”

“Oh, you think so? What about… how you called that? You believe it is _normal_ , Jinnie? I want you to have a regular life like everyone else. Right, Jeongin?”

All of a sudden, both Areum’s and Hyunjin’s eyes were stuck on him. Areum begged him to support her, whilst Hyunjin, the younger was sure, attempted to communicate with him. But Jeongin didn’t know who he was supposed to believe in. His mouth created a subtle sound no one heard, hoping it was going to be enough.

“What… Why, he…” muttered, then, Hyunjin, seeking for the words he hadn’t had, “Excuse me, I’m gonna get some fresh air.”

Not even Areum’s calls forbade Hyunjin to slam the door and leave his own house. The woman, tiredly and jadedly, sat again on the chair; instead, Himchan behaved like nothing had happened, making Jeongin think it wasn’t an unusual scene within the house. Right after, Jeongin fretted wondering where Hyunjin might have gone. Would he even come back? Where was he going? Why, why didn’t Hyunjin trust him? The night was cold, and Jeongin decided to go chasing Hyunjin. Yet, a strong grasp stopped him: Himchan. “Forget about it.”

How was he supposed to?

* * *

Jeongin decided to wait.

He grabbed his books and his pencilcase from Hyunjin’s room and decided to wait for him in the living room near the entrance. Areum smoked a cigarette in the garden (Jeongin could glimpse her back from the window), whereas Himchan went to sleep as soon as the plates had been cleaned. Kkami, still on the floor, was staring at Jeongin, whose traits softened when he saw the dog. He assumed the pet was wondering where Hyunjin had gone and why, if Jeongin was there, his owner wasn’t. So, Jeongin would have patted his little head, but the dog ran away in a jiffy.

The young man sighed. When was Hyunjin thinking to come back? At least, was he going to? Or did he escape to someone he knew? Why couldn’t Jeongin be that person? As his thoughts were harrassing his mind, he flicked through the pages of his book. He wondered whether one of those men, whose faces were only known through a statue of marble and whose lives were only known through their works, would have had an answer. Jeongin wondered whether they felt their heart sinking into their own body, not even recognising anymore what was essential and what represented their feelings. And, eventually, he found himself wondering whether it was weakness driving his body. Or fear. Or concern. Whether his heart was sinking to let his lungs breathe properly or it was in order to let it find a new place, another heart just as soaked and lost as his.

Areum threw the cigarette on the grass; Jeongin saw she lifted her head at her right, then at her left. Perhaps, although she didn’t stop Hyunjin leaving, although she had screamed and watched him shutting the door with incredulous, ephemeral eyes, she still wanted to run after him. However, she turned around, returning home, while the sun was lying low behind the other houses. As she surpassed the entrance, nobody said a word; Jeongin pretended to cross a red line on a wrong phrase he had just translated and Areum went upstairs not looking like minding the friend of her son’s business.

Soon, he remained alone in the living room. At some point he couldn’t understand why he was sitting there, half-awake, filling his head with things to do, to revise, to write. Though it turned out being harder as expected, because Jeongin ended up grieving himself, asking himself what Hyunjin and his mum were talking about, if it was something serious, painful, or even dangerous. And if it was, he swore at Hyunjin, since it wasn’t fair. Not at all. He wasn’t allowed to, firstly, make him fall in love with Hyunjin, crave for his touch, his kisses, his words – the sweetest he’d ever been told, if the result was let him out of his world. Being physically close as ever – he knew and could confirm that, but they got further and further as seconds passed and he got to know more about him, so he doubt he had learnt something about him in general. He doubt he could be loved when he wasn’t sure he could love back.

He turned the page, preparing himself to translate another bunch of lines. For real, it was his aim. But poetry, oh poetry, it decides for you when it’s your moment to be hit by a strong, powerful realisation. Therefore, Jeongin stayed stuck on the page, reading through the coincidence he had encountered, _Poem 48_ by Catullus. As he grasped the slip of paper in his hands, he remembered: it had been given to him by Seungmin, one day they ended up talking about latin literature and how Jeongin didn’t understand a single thing. Yet, everything seemed acquiring a new meaning that night.

_Mellītōs oculōs tuōs, Iuventī, / sī quis mē sinat ūsque bāsiāre, / ūsque ad mīlia bāsiem trecenta, / nec numquam videar satur futūrus, / nōn sī dēnsior āridīs aristīs / sit nostrae seges ōsculātiōnis._

He turned the slip of paper, finding the translation of the poem.

_Juventius, if anyone should let me / kiss all the time your honey-sweet eyes / then I would kiss them continuously up / to three-hundred thousand times and / I would never seem to be satisfied / not even if the crop of our kisses / should be thicker than dry ears of corn._

No, he realised, he wasn’t going to wait. He would find Hyunjin: he had to be the one to run after him.

* * *

Jeongin fell asleep before he could even stand up from the sofa. As soon as he woke up, by then in the middle of the night, he dragged himself upstairs, towards Hyunjin’s bedroom. He cautiosly gave a look at the whole room, before ensuring that Hyunjin wasn’t at home yet. Yawning, Jeongin sat on the chair by the desk with his legs astride; his chin touching the plastic of which the chair was made, his eyes fixed on the closed door. On the other hand, the eyelids pushed for Jeongin not to see anything. The hands of the clock hung on the wall lulled gently him into another sleep. He, however, forced himself to stay in the land of the living.

He took in his hands the ring on his index he never put off; Jeongin observed it, raising it over his head and turning it, as if it was something valuable and unknown. Incised there was a half moon, by then so discoloured he wasn’t recognisible at first glance. He put it again on his fingertip. Somehow, Jeongin hoped that at least the moon was following Hyunjin, like his fingertips dangled, getting loose while tiredness poisoned him. He rubbed his eyes, once his brain realised he was falling asleep, embraced by another nightmare. In fact, Jeongin could declare dreams you do when you’re drifting in and out were the worst; it’s impossible to tell whether you’re conscious or not and, consquently, dreams are a blurry vision of reality.

That day, his dreams had been vague, pointless, a movie going at a faster speed. A moment of rest, before going back to reality. Placing an elbow on the edge of the seatback and his head on that arm, Jeongin got lost in his own imagination. He saw faces, he barely heard some voices and, as he was focused on the fast events his mind offered him, he even tried to make sense out of his dream. Still, it was a disturbed sleep; whatever was happening, it was tormenting Jeongin. Here it was the disadvantage: he could have been catapulted into a rosy reality as well as in a sullen one. But for what is worth, at least he wasn’t able to dwell upon Hyunjin.

For all these reasons, Jeongin hadn’t been able to discern dream and reality at the moment in which the door creaked. The noise got him whining slightly, raising his head from the arm. He unclosed his eyes, rubbing them right after in order to distinguish what he was seeing. And he needed to rub them a second time, because he couldn’t believe his eyes – by some manner, he wasn’t completely certain he was awake. Hyunjin was in front of him, even if Jeongin could see him only in profile since he was putting of the shoes next to the bed – probably, Jeongin thought, the elder didn’t even noticed he had woken up.

Jeongin followed the movements of the other, as he got aware that no, it was not a fever dream. Trying not to do any noise, Hyunjin put on his pyjamas and, then, he sat on the floor: the eyes fixed on the screen of his phone. Jeongin wasn’t sure whether Hyunjin had cried, nevertheless he had a keen eye for Hyunjin’s eyes that were slightly red and from the pocket of the sweater, the same Jeongin had drooled over that same evening, which the young man had minded to throw on the bed, Jeongin made out a couple of used tissues. So, he took courage and stood up from the chair; he moved forward stealthily towards Hyunjin, kneeling before him.

“Hey, Hyunie.” he whispered, with a still drowsy voice; he carressed his thigh, which got the older flinching a little. In that moment, their eyes met and Jeongin ensured Hyunjin had been crying. They were… they were frightned, still a bit watery and, just as his mother’s, ephemeral. Incredulously, Jeongin didn’t even care about what was the problem. The only relevant thing was make him feel better. Hyunjin’s gaze lowered on Jeongin’s hand, which made him withdraw it. “Wanna talk about it?”

Immediately, Hyunjin squeezed his eyes, perhaps to repress the tears that could have gushed, and shook his head. He seeked not to show how he was feeling, although Jeongin had already seen his back, slightly curved as if he wanted to protect his body from enemy attacks, trembling. Eventually, covering his ears with his hands, he shook his head again, muttering several no’s. Right away, Jeongin understood he had unwillingly taken the lid off a still bleeding wound. He knew so well that feeling and he couldn’t explain why nature had inflicted a so cheap shot at his Hyunjin, too.

Jeongin extended a hand towards Hyunjin’s cheekbones, making his way to him and wiping his warm tears away, “Hyunie, it’s alright.”, hearing another sob coming, Jeongin pulled back his hand once more. “Believe me.” he said in a sigh, stretching out a smile only for him. It didn’t work, though. Hyunjin seemed to have forgotten the whole English language apart from the word no and it was all he could stammer. Jeongin’s attitude, generally, would have told him to insist until he would be okay to speak, but this time he preferred to nod, stand up and give him some more time alone.

He sat again on the chair, picking up some photos all over Hyunjin’s desk. They were all black and white, body details – a stretched belly, a small dimple of a baby, hands gathering earth... Yet, the ones hung over the house’s doors were the opposite: sparkling colours, trees, fruits, blue sky blackened by a flock of birds, a landscape during a sunny day. Jeongin supposed he kept his most intimate pictures where he could completely be himself – his room. And he smiled bitterly, because, it was again so hard to believe, Hyunjin trusted him: he could have went somewhere else seeing him sleeping in the room and, as well, he had all the chances to leave the bedroom when he figured out Jeongin was awake. Hyunjin… Jeongin didn’t get what was happening, though he felt like Hyunjin was at ease around him, like he trusted him, like – and his heart skipped a beat, he loved him. He looked for something in the pocket of his trousers; he pulled out the slip of paper Seungmin had written for him, reading for the umpteenth time its translation.

“Do you love me?”

The question reached Jeongin’s ears some minutes later. It broke into their chaos of thoughts, actually interrupting the silence and silencing the noise their thoughts were making. They were four, unexpected words Jeongin had to process one by one. _Do_ , Hyunjin had blatanlty introduced a question. _You,_ it was directed at him, certainly. _Love_ , Hyunjin was… was thinking the same thing as him? And _me_ , the direct object, what that love was referring to, which was carried by that you. In the end, Jeongin open widely his eyes in bewilderment. “Oh, erm, of course. Why shouldn’t I?” he hated how his tone sounded so insecure, hesitant. But Hyunjin, anyways, invited him to sit in front of it, in the same place he had left before.

“I think people who love me need some explanation on my behaviour.” began he, not daring to look at Jeongin directly. “That’s what I believed when – how did she called that?, the problem started.” Jeongin was ready to say that if he didn’t feel comfortable enough he hadn’t to explain anything, yet Hyunjin kept on talking. “It’s… it’s just a bad high school experience, okay? I love my mum, I really do; since I was a kid, I’ve considered the moments with her the best of my entire life. She was my mum, cheering me up whenever I was down and putting on some disinfectant whenever I scraped my knee. She’s always wanted the best for me, I was her pet, the perfect son to show at every family’s dinner. Never stepped out of line, never got a bad mark. Everyone must have a flaw, mustn’t we?” laughed he bitterly, “When I was in high school I made many new friends. The environment was good, I liked going to school and, looking back, I indeed recall it as a happy period. In my circle of friends there was this guy – I can still picture his blue eyes, who I eventually got pretty attached to. Charles was his name. It was just a matter of time until I could say I fell in love with him. Even though nowadays I wouldn’t say I was in love, rather I was… infatuated? But at seventeen everything seems huge, he was so vivid and, and I was so happy perceiving those feelings for the first time. I was gay, I found out. I liked boys, it didn’t seem a big deal. Even my parents met him!” he took a pause, touching the bracelet around his wrist, “Few months later, he threw a party. There were all our friends, and… I liked being around him, I liked him. I really did, but I still wasn’t ready to, you know, _that_ step. At least I was telling myself so. That night I was supposed to sleep at his place, and” Jeongin could hear his voice breaking down, “Gosh, he’d asked me if I was ready, and I repeated I wasn’t and he asked me why and… Jeongin, I didn’t know what was happening inside of me. My mind told me to tell him I needed more time, we were both too young, but my heart, my heart told me it was a lie. I couldn’t tell Charles a lie. I, I said I liked him, whilst I was not interested in… sleeping with him, I guess. Just, I’ve never been attracted that way to him or to anyone. He told me I was an outcast, and I will never forget the disappointed, aggressive glare he burned me with. See, there was no problem in understanding who I love, I wasn’t ready to face _how_ I loved that someone. It took me so much time, Innie. It took me so much time to understand I wasn’t the outcast he wanted me to be, maybe I am still figuring it out – because, uh, he left me, given that I couldn’t give him what he craved for. Still, you know, you can forget heartbreaks, sooner or later they fizzle out.” he held in his hands the fabric of his pyjama, “There is something that never does, though. Some time ago… Well, my mum noticed I was a bit under the weather, I suppose. Not gonna lie, I wasn’t doing great, so I just told her the truth, again: I explained how I feel and, and I ask you to believe me, when I say that nothing that happened before had, erm, made me feel like I am a burden more than that. I trusted her, I totally confided in her, I thought she would have understood. Oh, she didn’t; it’s been like this for too many months now. I put myself into her hands, and the first thing she said to me was that I needed a psychologist, that this wasn’t normal. She even asked me if I had some traumas I never told her about, imagine. However, I didn’t want to believe it was a problem, I’ve always tried to avoid the topic.” he rolled his eyes, focusing on the ceiling, “In the end, I was scared, frightened. At college, I didn’t breathe a world of it to anyone. Not even Changbin, or Felix, or Jisung. They all don’t know about this. Again, I feared it would end like it did two times already.”

Jeongin, kneeling down, drew nearer to Hyunjin, picking up the pieces of that messy speech. Hyunjin, meanwhile, kept on talking, “This is why, at some point, I distanced myself from you. Not because I shivered at someone who confided in me, rather because I was terrified at the idea that I couldn’t return your feelings the way you may have desired. I tried to put it aside, but it all came back when you told those things about your father; it made me come back to reality – I wasn’t able to love you, and if I’d ever told you anything, you wouldn’t have been willing to love me in any other way. Somewhat, hiding myself from you was better than letting you go.” he took a deep breath, his eyes as watery as Jeongin had never seen them before.

Once more, he carressed the other’s cheeks, looking at him with fond eyes, “Will you tell me what happened? Are you, are you ready?”

Fondness.

Hyunjin’s hand reached Jeongin’s back of the hand, “I’m so in love with you, Jeongin. And I can’t hold it back anymore, I’m asexual.” the younger watched the other crashing his slightly drenched skin against his hands. Whereas, Jeongin’s mind was silent, totally lost in what Hyunjin had said. _You’re in love with me?_ , he would have asked, but everything seemed too much for some reason. Jeongin’s lips unfolded in a shy smile, meanwhile his thumb was drawing little and bigger circles on his cheek; then, he mimed a feeble _thank you_ softly. Instead, his fingertip encountered a warm liquid – yes, Hyunjin was still crying, but his fogged eyes were combined with a smile just as little as his, that showed only his front teeth, perhaps for incredulity.

“I, I” began Jeongin, still unsure of what to say, “I don’t care about what anyone has said or will say, Hyunjin. You don’t have to race off me, okay? It doesn’t matter the way you want to live me, can’t you see? You brought me back to life!” saying that, he intertwined his fingertips with the other’s, slightly longer than his, “If you hadn’t been next to me that day, probably I wouldn’t have even had the courage to get in front of this, would I have been able to discern my dad’s emotion if you before hadn’t broken my heart? Hiding under the covers isn’t the only way to feel alive, to… To being intimate with you. It’s not. Do you know when I felt alive? When I was mad at you, because I trusted you and couldn’t understand your behaviour. I felt alive when I let my own study devouring my skin, so that I didn’t think about you. I felt alive when Changbin gave me a lift and I found you cold, apathetic, when you told me so tastelessly it was time to move on. And I felt alive because you punched me in the stomach, kissing me as I was coming home. I felt alive because you broke my heart – and, I’d take it to the bank, I would do that all over again. Before I could even be aware of it, I had given you my heart, don’t tell me this isn’t just as important as spending a night asleep. It hurt so much when you cut it in a half, but after years, I felt like I was living and all I was doing wasn’t only for a future I don’t see. I repeat, I would get through it again and again, if this means seeing the true part of you.”

They joined in a hug, the tightest Jeongin could give. He wasn’t sure what was going to happen from that moment on, but he was ready to stick his neck out for it, and he could feel Hyunjin, now, felt the same.

“What we’re gonna do?”

Jeongin bursted into laugh, “How we’re supposed to know at nineteen?”

_Se quei tuoi occhi di miele, Giovenzio,_

_fosse dato baciarli sempre sempre_

_trecentomila volte, neanche allora_

_penserei di saziarmene in futuro,_

_fosse messe di baci fitta fitta_

_come mai fu messe di spighe asciutte._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i can't believe i'm here, on my bed and glimpsing the snow outside, writing these acknowledgements. it's crazy to think that i'm definitely leaving this story after almost eight months. indeed, it's been crazy; i don't even know where to start.  
> locus amoenus accompanied me in this unusual year. it's hard to remember the period before it - a few weeks ago, i bumped into the diary i kept on january, and i found myself genuinely surprised reading that i was craving so much for writing a story, a love story. i didn't know what i was looking for, if i should be honest. but i encountered this, on a boring evening translating a boring and ancient latin text and, looking back, i can't be happier. every single character, every single storyline has a part of my heart. i couldn't be happier, because i had the chance, perhaps just by accident, to share hyunjin's fear, jeongin's void, seungmin's infatuation, minho's passion, jisung's heart, felix's indecision and changbin's strength with all of you. so, of course, i cannot not mention who supported me through kudos, curious cat and comments that always warmed me up and motivated me to do better and better. i think, at some point, i became stronger and changed, too. i figured out what writing means to me, i suppose. and even if tomorrow i will be emberrassed reading what i used to write at sixteen, today i'm joyful.  
> finally, i must thank my friends: giogio, for listening to my ideas and constant worries about the plot, ale, for being the best dispenser of opinions about the story i could get and ika, for beta reading most of the chapters.  
> so, this is locus amoenus and i hope you liked it just as much as i loved creating it. if you, for some reason i don't understand and absolutely don't agree with, still want to keep up with my future creations you can follow me on twitter, where you find me always as @ writinghwang.  
> thank you again for reading this mess, see you next time!  
> gre
> 
> p.s. : i would have liked to share with you a playlist of songs that has inspired me to create the plot, but sadly i've been having problems with the app for days :(
> 
> p.p.s : if u wanna lemme know your final thoughts i'd be the happiest person on earth <3


	29. playlist ???

hey lovely readers !!! it's been quite awhile since this story ended, but i'm here because i solved my music app problems and switched to spotify — therefore, i've created a playlist with all those songs that helped me writing or just had the vibes of locus amoenus lmao. i'm leaving the link in this ✨chapter✨ , so hopefully you can listen to the playlist :]]

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0JwM2NGO6dHwBZBBgsaPuq?si=Eb9ptJ7KSJ69OXCWhaZ3Bg&utm_source=copy-link 

thanks again for the love you've given to this story, hope to write some more in the future !!! <3


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